


Pouring Out a Soul

by Nyxelestia



Series: Virtues, Chicken, and Destiny [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Angst, Arthur Did Some Very Bad Things, Betrayal, Bigotry, Child Death, Discussion of Drowning, Episode Remix, Episode: s04e10 The Herald of a New Age, Gen, Graphic descriptions of violence, Knights Angst, Magic Reveal, Merlin Angst, Multi, Nightmares, Polyamory, Possession, Queerplatonic Relationships, Secrets Reveals, There is so much angst in this fic I am not even kidding, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxelestia/pseuds/Nyxelestia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i><b>(</b>Respect<b>)</b></i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><br/>With Guinevere gone, the hunt for Morgana continues. Unfortunately, the knights walk into an enchanted shrine and leave with a vengeful spirit. Even with Agravaine laying low and limiting his schemes, there is still much to fear in Camelot. Devastation lurks not just within the castle walls, but within their hearts. Some old secrets finally being dragged into the light, casting shadows in their wake.<p>Sometimes, the truth is the most devastating blow of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm _baaaa_ aack! :D
> 
> Thank you to the ever lovely AngelQueen for the beta! ^+^

~*~

Arthur sighed as he pushed his maps, reports, and all the other parchments aside. None of them were bringing him any closer to finding Morgana, despite all his hopes otherwise.

“Not going well?”

Arthur looked up to where Merlin was folding his clothes on the bed, and he shook his head. “Most of the time, it’s nothing,” Arthur said. “The few times we get something, she slips away by the time we know where to look.”

Merlin seemed to be about to say something, but then turned back to the clothes

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin in thought, before asking, “Has Emrys had any better luck?”

Merlin looked sharply at Arthur. “What makes you think I’d know?”

“You’ve been sneaking out and disappearing more – what else would you be up to but meeting him?” When Merlin’s eyes widened, Arthur rolled his own and added, “I have the knights on alert for Agravaine and the entire guard patrolling like wolves for anyone going in or out. There is little happening in this castle that I don’t know about, Merlin, but it’s not what’s happening _in_ the castle that’s worrying me.”

Merlin stared at him, before looking back at the clothes he was now clutching so tightly, Arthur worried he would rip them.

“No,” Merlin said, sounding as if he had to force the words out from his lips. “He hasn’t been able to get much closer than you.” A pause, and then he added in a softer, quieter tone, “And that’s frightening him.”

“He admitted that?”

“Didn’t have to.”

Arthur watched his manservant, and considered whether or not Merlin was projecting his own fears onto Emrys, since he was clearly terrified. He wondered yet again if Morgana had done more to Merlin when he was in her clutches than he’d admitted.

He wanted to ask, but felt a heavy pall of guilt settle in his gut when he remembered Merlin’s hesitance to talk about his time in captivity. Just thinking about what might have happened to Merlin made his stomach churn. He needed something to settle it.

“Take the platter back down to the kitchens. Bring back some wine and cakes – I’m going to be working on this for a while.”

“You should sleep,” Merlin said as he set down the clothes to gather up the dinner plates.

“Morgana will be pushing herself,” Arthur retorted. “So must I. As such, I want my wine watered down.”

Merlin nodded.

“Be quick,” Arthur added. “No secret meetings or mischief on the way.” Merlin snorted as he went out the door.

He stood up as the door shut with an echoing thud, stretching his body and walking over to the window to stare out over the city – and at the kingdom beyond.

“Where are you?” he murmured to the stars. “And what are you up to?”

Arthur carefully avoided thinking about just whom he wanted such answers from most.

~*~

“Who drank all my water?” Elyan cried out while Arthur struggled to re-fasten his belt around his waist. How the hell had Merlin managed to shrink a _belt_ of all things?

One of the knights burped from his position behind Arthur, and the rest of the men laughed.

“There’s your answer,” Arthur said, turning to see Merlin and the knights sniggering at Gwaine, who was patting his stomach gleefully.

As the knights started throwing another water skin, Merlin laughing off to the side, Arthur finally did up his belt and stepped back to watch his men. They were no closer to finding Morgana, bringing Gwen home, or revealing Agravaine for the snake he was. At least, though, they could still have moments like this.

Morgana hadn’t won just yet.

Arthur smiled and leaned back against a convenient tree, looking around and keeping watch while the knights and Merlin de-stressed a little. Just as he was about to considering joining in their little game, something flashed in the corner of his eye.

He whistled, sharp and low while gesturing for them to stop, and all of them were silent and tense in an instant as Arthur put a hand on the pommel of his sword and made a _follow me_ motion, before going towards what he saw.

Darting between the trees, Arthur could see it was stationary. As he approached, he saw it was nothing even alive – just bright.

They stepped into what looked like a clearing, decorated and yet oddly familiar.

“What is this place?” Percival asked as the knights started to spread out.

That was a very good question. Arthur could feel…something humming in his bones as he stepped carefully into the clearing of stone. There was what appeared to be an unusually clear spring, and combined with the too-smooth rock walls, he immediately knew this place wasn’t a natural one.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Merlin murmured, turning quickly around himself in an effort to take everything in at once.

“Look for anything that might lead to Morgana,” Arthur said. “ _Anything_ -”

“It’s a Druid shrine, Arthur,” Merlin began.

“Then maybe there’s something that can help!” Arthur snapped.

Merlin caught his eye and repeated, “Arthur, I have a _really_ bad feeling about this place.”

“It’s eerie,” Gwaine grumbled as he walked past.

“We’re knights of Camelot,” Arthur called out.

“Yeah, that doesn’t exactly help if this is a place of magic, _which it is_ ,” Merlin protested.

Arthur wanted to tell Merlin to shut up, but the odd familiarity of the place was gnawing at him. That, combined with the present eeriness of the place, made him disinclined to ignore Merlin.

Instead, he snapped, “Keep looking.”

“But don’t touch anything!” Merlin added.

All the knights looked at Merlin, and he shook his head. “This place is cursed, Arthur, I just know it. I can’t explain it fully, not without Gaius, but – he told me…”

“Told you what?” Arthur demanded.

He turned to face Merlin, about to add in a reminder to stop sniveling when he took in Merlin’s face, pale and terrified. His entire body was twitching. The words died on his lips as he watched Merlin jerk around, trying to keep everyone in his line of sight at once.

Once upon a time, Merlin had ridden out to face a dragon at Arthur’s side without armor, without weapons, and without flinching.

When Merlin got scared, Arthur paid attention.

“He, er,” Merlin shook his head, and Arthur frowned, turning away from the other men’s investigation to grasp Merlin’s shoulder. The manservant jerked at the touch, but didn’t pull away once he saw it was Arthur.

“What has you so spooked?” Arthur asked quietly.

Merlin slowly looked up, and Arthur followed his gaze to the strips of bright red cloth dangling right over their heads.

He couldn’t help but jerk back a little, dragging Merlin behind him.

“Those aren’t decorations, Arthur,” Merlin said, voice unusually deep with the high note of panic resonating behind it. “They’re a warning. We’re not going to find anything to do with Morgana here, if only because she’d never come here. Even _she_ wouldn’t commit such… blasphemy. Please – we have to get out of here!”

Blasphemy?

Arthur gave Merlin a long, considering look. He watched the way Merlin was constantly turning on the spot, looking for threats behind every corner. He was acting like a skittish horse, but Arthur could not see what had him so frightened.

He couldn’t see it, but he could feel something. Nonetheless, whatever it was, Merlin was feeling it worse.

“Alright,” Arthur said finally, turning and calling out to the knights. “Come on – we won’t find anything useful here. Let’s get back home before night falls.”

The knights were all too glad to leave, Gwaine and Percival practically shooting out of the clearing towards the horses, Leon following a little more slowly and warily. Arthur stood, though, looking around himself, frowning as he tried to remember why on earth this place was so familiar…and yet so alien at the same time.

“Arthur?”

He turned at Merlin’s nearly pleading voice and nodded. “Coming. Let me just get ‒”

Elyan appeared, looking even more spooked. “Let’s go,” he pleaded, striding past Arthur and Merlin at an unsettling pace.

Frowning deeply, Arthur sighed and, with one last look over his shoulder, followed them all back to the horses.

It was as they mounted up that Arthur finally remembered what that was. He froze and slowly turned back to face the clearing, all the horrific memories rushing back. He could almost begin to hear their cries again…

“Arthur.”

Oh, god, he knew exactly why this place was familiar, what that place _was_ now, and ‒

“Arthur?”

So many years, so many women and children and innocent men and regrets in one place, horrors of his youth clawing their way up from the depths of his memory.

“ _Arthur!_ ”

He jerked at Merlin’s sharp concern, and quickly mounted his horse.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur almost told the truth, almost said _no_ , but then he remembered – this was long before Merlin had blundered his way into Camelot.

With everything that had happened recently, and with the way Merlin was looking at him right now, Arthur couldn’t bear to tell the truth, or admit what he had done.

Merlin hadn’t yet seen Arthur at his absolute worst, and Arthur couldn’t bear to lose his closest friend over past failures.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said. “Or I will be once we get back home.”

Merlin clearly didn’t believe it, but thankfully he just nodded. He turned his horse around and waited for Arthur, and soon enough they were in the midst of all the knights on the slow march toward home.

The entire ride back was morose and quiet, Elyan nearly twitching out of his saddle while Merlin looked one step away from just falling off his horse entirely. It gave Arthur disquieting flashbacks to Merlin’s state after their run-in with the Dorocha.

Arthur felt a bit like falling down, himself. Preferably on his sword.

Eight years and he could still remember the screaming as clearly as if it were yesterday.

~*~

Arthur nearly went with Merlin to talk to Gaius about what they had found, but instead went to the council chambers to pool his findings along with everyone else’s in the search for Morgana.

It was irritating, working with stratified small councils, but it was the only way to have some measure of control over what Agravaine – and more importantly _Morgana_ – knew of the search.

Arthur never thought he’d be so grateful for his uncle’s stubborn blindness and inability to see what was right in front of him.

“Is he okay?”

Arthur turned to Gwaine.

“Who?”

“Merlin,” Gwaine said. “The way he was acting in that shrine…”

“I saw,” Arthur said. “I’ll speak to him tonight.”

Gwaine nodded once and followed the rest of the knights as he set about on a false search to misdirect Agravaine.

Arthur headed up to his chambers, but ended up running into Merlin halfway there.

The servant didn’t notice him, at first, rushing past with a pile of laundry. He yelped when Arthur grabbed his shoulder, nearly dropping his load as he jerked away, and yet again only calming when he saw that it was Arthur.

“Are you ‒”

“I’m fine, I’m _fine_ ,” Merlin said a little snappishly. “I just ‒”

“You’ve been off ever since we found the shrine,” Arthur said as they walked towards his chambers. “I just want to make sure you are alright.”

Merlin pursed his lips and nodded.

“Good,” Arthur said, not believing Merlin’s act for a moment. “Has Gaius been able to tell you anything about that shrine?”

“It’s…we need to leave it alone,” Merlin said. “Those things are places to quell restless spirits – those greatly wronged and with unfinished business. They ‒”

Merlin bit his lip, and Arthur tried not to flinch as the unintended accusation. Luckily, Merlin didn’t notice.

“Gaius thinks this was the result of one of your father’s raids. After the knights or whoever cleared out, some Druids must’ve gone back to try and bring some peace to the spirits of those butchered there.”

Merlin respected Arthur’s father, but he never _liked_ him. Or maybe it was the other way around, that Merlin liked the man but didn’t respect the king – Arthur could never truly tell which it was, only that it was one or the other.

They reached Arthur’s chambers in silence, one which Arthur broke with, “I’ll take my dinner in here, tonight.”

“Any preferences?” Merlin asked as he dumped Arthur’s laundry on the bed.

“See if there’s any of that roast beef left.” Arthur paused, his thoughts flashing to the shrine again. “Strong wine, too. And some extra sweetmeats wouldn’t be remiss.” Merlin opened his mouth with a certain glint in his eyes, and Arthur snapped, “I’m not going to put up with any of your usual nonsense about my dining preferences, not tonight. Just _go_.”

Arthur regretted his tone as soon as he saw the hurt flash across Merlin’s face, but he didn’t want to be cheered up tonight. So, he just looked away and pointed to the door. “Now.”

Merlin went.

Arthur stood in the middle of his rooms for several moments more after the door closed, before finally collapsing into the chair in front of the fire.

He stared into the fire’s depths, pondering counting the minutes until Merlin came back to see if he’d taken too long, if he’d snuck off for a secret, illegal meeting with a Druid or sorcerer, if not Emrys himself. Merlin’s disappearances were getting increasingly erratic, and based on what he knew of Emrys, that had to mean Merlin was familiar with other sorcerers or Druids besides the old coot.

Arthur supposed that, with Merlin having grown up with a sorcerer for a best friend in Ealdor, Merlin _would_ be familiar with sorcerers. It might even explain a few other strange coincidences over the last few years…though not nearly enough.

Still, that didn’t make it any less startling to realize Merlin was so _close_ to people with magic. Even accounting for Gaius…

…actually, that didn’t help much, either. It was clear that somehow, Merlin knew Emrys better than Gaius did.

Arthur frowned as he realized that, before turning in his seat to look at the haphazard pile of laundry on the bed, and the door through which Merlin had just left.

“How _do_ you know Emrys?” Arthur murmured to the empty room.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get an answer from the silence.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

There was screaming in the air, from the children running away in terror, so many children. There were men and women fighting with magic against the charging knights, the elderly shouting spells from where they stood as they were slaughtered and so much smoke from the torches clouded air as bodies dead and alive were set on fire. The stench hung in the air, holding down the screams, the sounds un-muffled by the crackling and popping of burning flesh, it hung in the air like a bloody mist and he screamed, too, screamed along with his prey, screamed and watched the carnage with no one hearing him because he was nothing in the face of all the screaming children. So, so much crying and wails and more screaming, more, but his were silent as their shrieks of terror filled his ears and heart and he was drowning in the sounds and being suffocated by the smoke, and he would never stop hearing or smelling anything else again ‒

“No!”

Arthur jerked up in his bed, choking on the memories of smoke and ears ringing with imagined screams.

He sat there, gasping and looking around himself, trying to anchor himself in the darkness, which was broken only by the sharp beams of moonlight through the windows – though it was difficult to tell with the sweat dripping in his eyes.

He did nothing about the sweat – after the memories of smoke and fire, the chilly air against his bare, sweat-slicked skin was a blessing.

He shut his eyes and fell back on the bed again as he tried to get his breathing under control, but that just made the memories stronger. He opened his eyes again to stare at the canopy of his bed.

“Damnit,” he muttered as he tried to relax, tried to go back to sleep.

Oh, why bother?

With a long-suffering sigh, he swung his legs out of the bed and pushed off. He shivered again as his feet touched the cold stone floor and he was hit with yet more cool air, but he didn’t pull on a shift just yet. His chest was feeling constricted enough as it was.

Instead, he shuffled over to his desk, thinking about getting some work done. One look at the detritus of his search for Morgana, however, and he knew it wasn’t going to happen. He kept going, over to the window, and sat on the ledge beneath it, trying to reassure himself with the sight of his city, the limited proof he had that the world wasn’t ending.

He sat there watching until dawn.

~*~

“Arthur?”

He turned his head tiredly at Merlin’s voice to see him standing _right there_ with hesitant concern on his face.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur opened his mouth to tell Merlin _no_ and explain about the nightmare, about his past, about everything…

And then shut his mouth and nodded silently.

“Trouble sleeping,” he said casually. “A lot on my mind. Nothing you can do for it, save getting my mail and armor ready. I think I’ll train with the knights today, get back into shape and let off some steam.”

Once Merlin collected the previous night’s dinner plates and left, Arthur hung his head, before glaring at his reflection in the window through the corner of his eye.

“Coward,” he snapped at it, then turned sharply away from his own accusations.

Merlin had spent most of his life caring deeply for someone of magic – Will, Gaius, perhaps even Morgana at one point, and who knew who else. How was Arthur supposed to tell him he once led such a barbaric raid on a Druid encampment? Or that he’d slaughtered so many innocent people, so many _children_ , because his father hated magic?

He thumped his head against the glass. He already knew the answer:

He couldn’t.

~*~

“Everyone’s been having trouble sleeping,” Gwaine said when he saw Arthur’s face.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you and Elyan. And I was up tracking Agravaine’s movements through the castle. He’s been poking around the vaults, I think.”

Arthur replied with just a jerky nod, before focusing on the training.

Gwaine, at least, seemed in just as irritable a mood as Arthur, so they went first.

After months of being so desperately focused on finding Morgana and stopping this nonsense going on around the castle, it was good to just lose himself in the familiar motions of a sword and the body wielding it. He and Gwaine parried and fought across the field, going through every basic and not-so-basic sparring motion they knew. Off to the side, he could see Leon and Percival doing the same, Elyan occasionally interjecting to turn it into a three-way fight.

They must’ve spent an hour just going at this. Once Gwaine seemed to have let off his frustrations at Agravaine slipping past him yet again, he was as chatty as always, yelling insults and encouragements to the others, most of whom shouted right back at him. Arthur, perhaps, was a little more quiet than normal, but so was Elyan, and Percival didn’t seem to mind occasionally acting as a human wall when they needed a moment to themselves, so Arthur wasn’t particularly worried.

Unsurprisingly, when they were reaching the peak of their training, Merlin stepped right into the middle of things – one day, Arthur would drill something resembling self-preservation into the idiot – and tried to stop them all.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Merlin,” Arthur drawled. “But we’re fine. We’re even resting, see? No need to get your petticoats all ruffled about our welfare.”

Merlin crossed his arms, which really didn’t help dispel his impression of being a nagging fishwife.

“You have been pushing yourself so hard, Arthur, and for so long – it’s not healthy.”

“Well, we all need to train,” Arthur said. He jerked his head to the others and added, “Particularly them. And unless you feel like taking my place, I’m going to be training them so that they are always in top shape to protect this kingdom.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to purse his lips, before suddenly, he stalked over to the tent and grabbed a helmet, yanking it on as he strode be and grabbed the sword from Arthur’s hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

Facing the knights as a group, Merlin took up the default swordsman’s stance Arthur taught him.

“Taking your place,” Merlin said curtly.

Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation as Gwaine, laughing, went up against Merlin.

He kept watching, shaking his head at their antics. For all that Merlin usually goofed off whenever Arthur tried to train him in swords-craft, Merlin had actually managed to pick up at least some of what Arthur taught, so he managed to hold his own quite well. In fact, Gwaine didn’t even have to go nearly as easy on him as Arthur expected. He was impressed, and surprised.

And just a little bit sad. When was the last time Arthur and Merlin had trained on their own, just the two of them, like old times?

Years, now that Arthur thought about it. Clearly, this would have to be rectified. Now that Arthur had proof Merlin wasn’t as terrible with a sword as he liked to claim, maybe he could teach Merlin some advanced motions.

Considering all the danger Merlin insisted on following Arthur into, he’d need it.

He smirked when Gwaine eventually landed on his arse, and Merlin said, “You don’t have to go _that_ easy on me you know.”

It was funny to watch Merlin darting around Percy, and Leon just parried with his shield, sans blade. Arthur considered sparring against Merlin, himself, before noticing Elyan looking off into the distance.

Arthur wondered what had the man so distracted today. Was it Guinevere?

As soon as the thought entered his head, he shoved it aside and instead landed a heavy hand on Elyan’s shoulder, jolting him easily out of his reverie.

“Take a turn,” he said lightly. “You can amuse yourself if nothing else.”

The smile Elyan gave him was forced, but at least he was trying. Arthur didn’t say anything, instead waiting to see how Elyan would “lose” to Merlin, as the others had done.

At first it was even moves and light blows, as if Elyan were sparring with any other new knight that needed to learn.

“We really do need to train Merlin seriously, one day,” Gwaine said.

“You’re welcome to try. The more I try to make him better, he gets worse,” Arthur said.

Gwaine snorted a little as they continued watching.

Arthur frowned, though, when Elyan’s blows started to get faster, and it seemed like he stopped holding back. Even with a practice sword, that had to hurt.

“Elyan!” Leon called out sharply.

Elyan didn’t respond. He just kept getting more and more vicious, and Merlin went from trying to block and twist the blows to cowering behind his shield, backing away from Elyan.

“ _Elyan!_ ” Percival tried.

Merlin finally tripped over himself, and the knights were all tensed as instead of stopping, Elyan stood over Merlin, sword-arm already going up and raining down another blow and coming up again ‒

Arthur leapt forward, but Gwaine and Percival already had Elyan by the arms. They dragged him back and pushed him onto the ground as Arthur helped Merlin up.

Merlin waved off his concerns with a litany of, “I’m fine, I’m fine…” that absolutely no one believed. Arthur helped him up even as Merlin insisted he didn’t need it because _he was fine, thank you very much_.

He wasn’t, he couldn’t be, but there was little to be done for it at the moment, so Arthur immediately turned and stalked towards Elyan. “What is the matter with you?!” he shouted.

Elyan’s head jerked, and he looked up at Arthur in confusion. Then his eyes widened as he caught sight of Merlin hanging back behind the other knights, looking at him apprehensively.

“Oh, gods, I’m sorry. Merlin, I’m so sorry,” he said, standing up. Or trying to, anyway, as a moment later he fell again, limbs flailing as if they were made of water.

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, before turning to Arthur. “See what I mean? This is what happens when you train without sleep or ‒”

“It would’ve been fine if it were one of us, Merlin,” Arthur said. “But then you had to go in and stick your nose into this ‒”

“What _is_ wrong with you?”

They looked to see Gwaine crouching before Elyan, eyes narrowed slightly as if he were looking for something. “You looked practically ill, last night, and right now…”

Elyan sighed, taking a deep breaths and slowly pushing himself up, again. This time, he stayed standing.

“Sorry, just… I haven’t been feeling well since last night,” Elyan said. “Since yesterday afternoon, actually. I guess there was something bad in that water…”

“What water?” Leon asked.

“At the shrine,” Elyan said. “There was this little well, there ‒”

“You _drank the shrine water_?!”

Arthur and the knights all jumped and turned at Merlin’s shrill shout.

They stared at him, a little stunned from his outburst. Merlin stared demandingly at Elyan.

“…yes?” Elyan said, his eyes wide with alarm. “I was thirsty, after Gwaine’d drunk all my water, and it really was just a little spring of water ‒”

Except Merlin was striding forward, and grabbing Elyan’s shoulders. He shook the knight, crying out, “I told you that place was cursed!”

Elyan appeared a little dazed at the force of Merlin’s shaking. The servant looked wildly around towards the other knights.

“The rest of you – did you eat or drink anything you found there? Did you cut yourself, spill any blood? Did you leave _anything_ behind, or take anything?”

Arthur stayed still and silent, but when the other knights all shook their heads, Merlin seemed to take this as a good answer.

“Elyan, did anything else happen? Anything strange? Anything not so strange but worth mentioning?” Merlin said, sounding almost hysterical as he grabbed at Elyan’s shoulders again.

Normally, Arthur might demand Merlin calm down, but after seeing Elyan loom over Merlin like that, looking ready to beat him to death, he let Merlin vent.

“Nothing besides a few strange dreams, I promise,” Elyan said. “Listen, I thought it was just normal water, I swear ‒”

“What kind of dreams?”

“Like – I thought I’d woken up, except I can’t have, because there was this pale child in my rooms? Sopping wet, looking scared. I comforted him, told him I’d help him… I woke up in my bed after that. It was probably just because I spilled some water or sweat too much during the night, I was a bit wet when I woke up.” He paused. “Wet with water,” he clarified.

Merlin went even paler than he already was, staring at Elyan. Arthur could see his knuckles going white as his grip tightened. Even through the armor, Elyan winced.

“Elyan,” Merlin said. “I don’t think that was a dream.”

~*~

“What is happening?” Agravaine asked when he ran into Arthur in the corridor.

“Merlin believes Elyan might’ve been hit with a curse of some kind,” Arthur said. “He is being confined to his quarters for now while Gaius looks him over.”

“What makes him so sure?”

“He isn’t sure, hence Gaius’ expert opinions,” Arthur said.

Agravaine looked from Arthur, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, to the door to Elyan’s chambers and the guards standing before it.

“And the guards?”

“…Elyan got violent, earlier. Much more than normal, and he didn’t seem to be doing it intentionally.”

“Violent?” Agravaine asked. He took a deep breath. “Are you sure he is not simply… upset… about his sister?”

Arthur gripped his elbow tightly.

“He wasn’t being violent with me,” Arthur said. “He started out sparring with Merlin and completely lost control. Merlin asked him about some things that happened yesterday – we had a run in with an old Druid shrine – and he concluded that something was wrong. Elyan is the one that asked for the guards.”

Agravaine shook his head. “Arthur, I understand you want to see the best in everyone, but in this instance it looks like a simple case of ‒”

“If Gaius cannot come to a satisfactory conclusion, then we will take a look at other possibilities. Not until then.”

Agravaine slowly nodded.

“Yes, well then…” He frowned. “What are you doing here, though?”

“I want to make sure Elyan is okay once Gaius is done,” Arthur said. “I look after my men, uncle.”

Agravaine smiled, then, something soft and fond.

“Just like your mother,” he said.

Arthur blinked, turned to face him more fully. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever our father would lead men out for patrols or skirmishes, she would always be waiting beside the nurses and physicians on our return, talking to all the men who were hurt and reassuring them. She did the same when _your_ father led the occasional battle during their marriage. She always stayed up late during the nights following a return from a battle to make sure everyone was as well as they could be.”

Arthur swallowed.

“She waited to see if they were okay? What did she do when she saw them?” he asked.

“Simple things, but so, so powerful. She would talk to them, sometimes she would pour them drinks or help the servants distribute the food. Our father kept trying to discourage her, saying that sort of work was beneath her, but your mother could be quite stubborn when pressed.”

“Did my father have anything to say about it?”

“Nothing,” Agravaine said apologetically. “Though I suspect the fact that he didn’t told more than anything he could have said.”

Arthur let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me this,” Arthur said. “People have never liked to talk about my mother, least of all Father. Every tale I hear of her is a little bit closer to who she was.”

Agravaine smiled.

“We haven’t had a private meal in so long, Arthur,” Agravaine said. “How about we dine tonight, you and I alone? I can tell you more about Ygraine.”

It was a bad idea. Arthur had weaseled out of any private meeting with Agravaine possible, especially meals, because of just how big an opening the man would have if he tried to kill Arthur. An unsupervised meal, with no one present, or even just no one but servants and guards? He could make a move, then, a perfect move to do whatever he wanted, and while Arthur could defend himself against that, he could also end up backed into a corner.

But no matter what Agravaine tried, he’d still have to talk about Arthur’s mother to get there.

“Of course,” Arthur said. “I’ll make sure the kitchens know to set up a private meal for us tonight.”

Agravaine nodded, bid him farewell, and left. Arthur kept turning his body to follow the man’s progress down the hall, until he disappeared around the corner.

Arthur turned back to see Merlin shutting Elyan’s door behind him as he slipped out of the room.

“Gaius is still working. I was going to get you lunch,” Merlin said. He said it with a stiff tone of voice that told Arthur that was just an excuse.

Walking with Merlin, down a different hallway and well away from both the guards and any other prying ears, Arthur followed until they reached a somewhat private recess in the wall at the junction of three different corridors.

“Was that really such a wise idea?” Merlin asked. “A private meal with him? What if ‒”

“I am well aware of the risks, Merlin,” Arthur cut him off.

Merlin kept looking at him. “Are stories of your mother really worth it?” he finally asked.

Arthur glared at him. “Is that any of your business?”

“Well, seeing as I’m the one who’s going to be stressed out trying to protect you tonight at the dinner ‒”

“ _Private_ meal, Merlin,” Arthur said. “It will be just as us.”

“You’ll still need a servant-”

“Contrary to what you think of noblemen, Merlin, we are in fact capable of feeding ourselves.”

“…guards?”

“Outside,” Arthur said simply.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, now looking truly alarmed. “This is ridiculous. At least let me ‒”

“The Du Bois have always been a very private family, Merlin, even more so than the Pendragons,” he said calmly, carefully. “I wish to hear as much truth about my mother as possible, and I want my uncle’s guard down for that.”

“Arthur – is this why you’ve been so…” Merlin paused, searching for the right word. “Hesitant, about pursuing him? You don’t normally watch a person for so long or hold back when you know they are doing wrong. That’s _my_ method, not yours.”

“I would never put Camelot in jeopardy over that,” Arthur snapped.

“It’s not _Camelot_ I’m worried about, here,” Merlin said, glaring back at him. “You are the kingdom’s first and foremost protector, Arthur, but – you have never really been too careful about your own safety.”

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur huffed. “I suggest you make sure the cooks know my dinner will be a private meal with my uncle. Immediately.”

He turned and started walking away without a word.

“…you can’t risk your life for your mother’s memory, Arthur,” Merlin called out.

“Watch me!” Arthur shouted over his shoulder.

Today really wasn’t his day.

Despite the circumstances, maybe tonight would look up a little.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

“But… how did she sneak the donkey into her rooms?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Agravaine said, laughing. “I just know that I walked in and there was a donkey, which she was covering in paint.”

Arthur just stared, a little dumbfounded by the mental image of his mother attempting to paint a donkey in her bedchambers as part of some elaborate… _joke_ she’d played in her youth.

His father never talked about her large, and apparently bizarre, sense of humor. He had a fleeting thought that she and Merlin would’ve gotten along fantastically, then promptly shoved the thought away.

“I never knew she had such a sense of humor,” Arthur said instead, already feeling his lips curl into a smile. Treacherous company aside, dinner had gone well so far, delicious food and delightful stories filling him with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fires in the hall. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in months.”

“I understand,” Agravaine said sympathetically. “It has been far too long since we have dined privately. Or done anything else privately for that matter.”

“Mm,” Arthur said noncommittally.

“Your manservant is extremely overprotective of you. As are your knights.”

“Morgana’s betrayal has left them all extremely paranoid,” Arthur said.

“Well, yes, but I’m your uncle ‒”

“And she was my sister. In spirit long before blood. For the longest time, she was my best friend and only confidant. If she can betray me, _anyone_ can.”

“Well, anyone with magic, of course.”

“ _Anyone_ ,” Arthur said. He wondered if Agravaine would tell her what was spoken here. “Magic was only the excuse for her treachery, not the cause of it.”

“…you really believe that?” Agravaine asked in surprise.

Arthur sighed and set down his fork. “The treachery had to have come before the magic – that is the only reason I can think of for her not telling me of her magic.”

“The only reason? In Camelot?” his uncle asked incredulously.

“I aided her in smuggling a magical fugitive to safety when our father was still alive, one who was a stranger to us both,” Arthur said. “She had to have known I wouldn’t have harmed her if she’d told me!”

Agravaine opened his mouth again to say something, but before he could, they heard shouting come out from the walls.

“What’s happening?” Agravaine asked.

“Probably Merlin got caught spying on us,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

Except the shouting was panicked, and abruptly there was the sound of clashing swords and then silence, save for the sound of… dripping?

_Blood_ , Arthur thought, and stood up, drawing his sword and readying himself in a combat stance.

“Maybe your men were right to keep an eye on you,” Agravaine said, slowly standing up.

“Maybe,” Arthur said, and wondered where Merlin was, just as the door opened to reveal one of those men.

“…Elyan?” Arthur asked in confusion.

“Maybe not,” Agravaine muttered under his breath, before raising his voice and addressing the sopping wet knight ‒

Wait – sopping wet? How and why was he‒

“Stand down, Sir Elyan, and explain yourself at once!”

Arthur stared in confusion as Elyan didn’t respond.

“Sir Elyan!” Agravaine shouted. “Stand down. And explain yourself, immediately!”

Elyan – ‘Elyan’? – continued to stare blankly at Arthur.

“Uncle,” Arthur said slowly. “I don’t think that’s Elyan.”

Elyan started to move forward.

“Who are you?” Arthur said. “What do you want?”

“I must avenge my death,” Elyan said.

Except‒

“That’s not Elyan,” Agravaine agreed, and as Elyan repeated it – no, a _child’s_ voice repeated it – the sharp scraped of metal on metal sliced through the air, sharper than his father’s disappointment, as Elyan drew his sword.

“Who are you?” Arthur demanded again, slowly backing away.

“I must avenge my death.”

And then Arthur needed to ask no more. He knew who it was.

He’d heard the child’s screaming in his dreams the night before.

“Give me back my knight,” Arthur said desperately, trying not to vomit. “It’s me you’re after, not him!”

“Arthur!” Agravaine snapped. “You are a king, and this is a _knight_ , you can’t just sacrifice yourself for ‒”

“ _Let him go!_ ” Arthur shouted at the spirit possessing his friend, ignoring his uncle completely. “ _Please!_ ”

But unsurprisingly, begging did nothing.

“I must avenge my death.”

How many people had begged Arthur for their lives, that night? How many children?

Guards were flooding the room, and Arthur had enough time to shout at them, “Don’t hurt him!” before whirling away from the spirit’s blow.

No, Elyan’s blow. The spirit was a magical child but it was _using_ Elyan in every capacity, and his swordsmen skills were no exception.

“Let my friend go,” Arthur said. “Please. Your quarrel is with me and we can settle it, but let _him_ go. He is innocent!”

“So was I,” the spirit said, the child’s voice echoing with the rage of a legion behind it, and that was a greater blow to him than the next swipe of Elyan’s sword could ever hope to be.

For a moment, one brief moment when Elyan’s sword was high and Arthur’s own was low, Arthur considered not bring his arm up for the next blow.

It would be nothing less than what the poor spirit of a murdered child deserved.

But then he remembered what would happen to Elyan – to the child? – if he caved into his own dark desires, and parried and blocked like the king he was ‒

No. Like the knight he was and like the warrior he wanted to be. And like the king he _wasn’t_.

“Your majesty,” one of the guards called out. “If this spirit is trying to kill you ‒”

“Do not hurt him!” Arthur snapped out again, dodging Elyan’s next blow and slipping past his possessed friend, using just one-two-twist-strike-twist-ohgodpleasedon’tbetoohurt to get Elyan’s sword to drop to the floor. “It will do nothing to the spirit inside him.”

Surprisingly easy, but then again, the man was _sopping wet_.

“Whoever you are,” Arthur said, his stomach crawling up between his lungs as he held the tip of his sword to Elyan’s neck – the _child’s_ neck. “We will settle our quarrel with honor, but that cannot be done so long as you possess my knight!”

“I must avenge my death,” the child repeated and launched himself at Arthur ‒

‒ and then around him.

Arthur, Agravaine, and the guards stared, stunned, as the sopping wet Elyan ran through the servants’ side doors, and out of sight.

Unsurprisingly, a moment later half a dozen more guards poured in through the main doors, along with Leon and Merlin, only for all of them to stop and stare around in confusion.

“What-” Agravaine demanded from the room at large, “-Just happened?!”

~*~

“Are you sure it was a child’s voice?” Gaius asked again.

“Yes,” Arthur said. Again. “And the water, everywhere…”

“I believe I understand,” Gaius said, frowning as he looked at the tomes covering his worktable.

“What is it?” Agravaine asked, leaning against the doorway to the physician’s quarters. “What kind of magic is that, and how did Sir Elyan do it?”

Gaius didn’t respond at first, turning for a moment to look once more over the guards Elyan had incapacitated during his escape.

Thank God none of them were seriously hurt. It would have devastated Elyan to be greeted by that once he was freed from this spirit’s grasp. On top of the incident with the Lamia and Guinevere leaving Camelot…

“He didn’t,” Arthur said, crossing his arms with the fire hot on his back. “Except for drinking from a spring that turned out to be enchanted.”

Agravaine sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. “And now?”

“Presumably the spirit possessing him is waiting somewhere to be able to attack him again,” Gaius said.

“Well that’s comforting,” Merlin muttered from beside Arthur, not looking up as he rubbed some paste over the bruises of the half-conscious guard.

“Where were you, anyway?” Arthur said. “I would’ve expected you to have at least tried to take on Elyan, or come forewarn us while he dealt with the guards.”

“I was _trying_ to respect your wishes for a private meal,” Merlin growled. “Clearly that was a mistake. I am never leaving you alone again!”

Arthur rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement, turning and ending up confused at the amused look on his uncle’s face as he watched Merlin.

“You keep saying that,” Arthur said.

“And look what happened the one time I _actually_ left you alone!” Merlin snapped.

“You know, I am a king. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!” Arthur said.

The looks on Gaius, Agravaine, and Merlin’s faces were enough to tell him what they thought of that. Disrespectful, all of them. And he still bloody loved them.

All of them. Unfortunately.

Arthur turned away to face the fire, trying desperately to not hunch in on himself. For a few moments, the room was filled with silence, save for the occasional pained hiss of the guard behind him, the crackling fire, and Gaius turning the pages of his books.

“I will go meet with the knights and see if they have anything new,” Agravaine said finally.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Arthur said.

Agravaine stood fully upright, about to leave, before pausing and looking directly at Athur, the picture of sincerity and regret.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Arthur,” he said. “I hope we can have dinner again. Without interruptions.”

“I can make sure of it,” Merlin deadpanned. Agravaine snorted and Arthur rolled his eyes.

Why, why, _why_ did his uncle have to be a traitor? Couldn’t he have one loving family member to keep for himself?

Just one. That was all he was asking for. _Just one._

He wondered what the spirit possessing Elyan asked for, before Arthur had killed the child.

“Let’s hope so,” Arthur said, looking away from his uncle’s oh-so-loving gaze and focusing on the ashes in the fire.

During that raid so many years ago, the air was thick with floating ashes. They were practically swimming in it.

He shut his eyes against the memories, but that only made it worse. He supposed it was no less than he deserved, but he still turned away from the fire.

“Arthur,” Gaius said softly. Arthur opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Gaius was beckoning Arthur to the other side of the room, and they both went, leaving Merlin to finish applying poultices to the guards’ wounds and settling in the ones that needed to stay the night to be safe.

“The spirit will likely attack you again, but it will not be waiting here,” Gaius said.

“… the shrine?”

“The shrine,” The physician confirmed.

Arthur sighed. “Then that is where I need to go.”

“I will alert the ‒”

“ _No_ ,” Arthur said sharply. At Gaius’ confused look, he said, “I need to do this alone.”

The old man’s eyebrows rose up into his hair with incredulity. “Arthur ‒”

“The spirits’ quarrel is with me,” Arthur interrupted. “I have done them great wrong and they deserve for me to address the matter with enough respect to show my own face there.” 

“You cannot keep paying for your father’s wrongs ‒”

“This wasn’t one of my father’s wrongs,” Arthur shouted, his control in tatters. “It was one of _mine_.”

Gaius stared at him, stunned. “Arthur, you can’t ‒”

“I probably killed that child myself, Gaius,” Arthur said, his anger seeping out of him just as quickly as it had appeared. Now he was just exhausted. “I didn’t… when I was at that location last, I froze up and did nothing until the end, and what I did then… the child, all those spirits, they deserve justice. And I will be the one to give it to them.”

“And should their justice leave Camelot without a king?” Gaius asked.

Arthur turned away and headed out the door without answering.

If Arthur couldn’t do this…then he was no king for Camelot.

~*~

Arthur had considered sneaking out of Camelot, but then ultimately decided against it, instead riding out with an order to his guards that if anyone (Merlin, especially) came after him, they were to tell him Arthur had gone in any direction but the one he actually went in. He had no doubts Merlin would still end up figuring it out, but at least he might be able to buy himself some time.

It was a surprisingly short distance from Camelot’s outer gate to the shrine, even accounting for Hengroen’s brisk pace. It wasn’t long until he could see the spot where he and his knights had rested just before stumbling across the shrine, and it was there that Arthur dismounted. He knotted and dropped the reins, though he didn’t bother to tie Hengroen to anything. The steed was well-trained enough to be left unbound and on his own for a short time, and if Arthur took any longer than that… well.

For a few moments he stood there, stroking the horse’s neck and staring off into the distance.

“Do you remember this place?” Arthur asked. “Our first…our first real mission together.” He shut his eyes. “And it had to be this.”

Hengroen, ever stoic that he was, simply bent his neck to nibble on some grass growing atop a small rise in the ground as Arthur spent a moment with his face buried in the horse’s shoulder. He took one last deep breath, before standing upright.

Only to jerk back in surprise when he saw Emrys standing on top of the rock a few feet away.

“What in the ‒”

“We meet again, King Arthur,” the old – young? – man said solemnly.

Arthur clenched his jaw.

“What do you want?”

The old man shrugged. “Do you really think what _I_ want is what matters here tonight, young king?”

“Well, you’re the one who’s here stalking me in the forest!” Arthur snapped. Hengroen nickered a bit from beside him, and Arthur turned to look at Hengroen, wondering why the horse seemed so unconcerned by the stranger before them. The damned horse seemed highly content to nudge around where the sorcerer stood to reach a particularly lush spot of flora, and the sorcerer obliged the horse with little more than a fond smile.

Well, if the stories about sorcerers he’d grown up with were anything to go by, then an uncanny knack with animals isn’t wholly unexpected.

Arthur stood staring as the old man painstakingly climbed his way down the few feet of sloped ground and angled trees. Just a few days before, Arthur and Merlin and the knights had been jumping up and down this height, and something about watching this powerful man struggle to move across so small a distance felt _wrong_ to Arthur.

But he knew better than to offer help to Emrys.

Once the old man was on flat ground again, he patted the horse’s shoulder as he gazed at Arthur with oddly familiar eyes.

“Why are you here?” Arthur repeated.

“That shrine is not safe for you, young king.”

“Well I can’t very well just _leave_!” 

“And I am not asking you to,” the old man said. “I will not interfere with you settling your father’s debts. But neither will I leave Camelot without a king.”

Arthur froze. “My… my father’s debts?”

“That is why you’re here, is it not?” the old man asked. “You wish to apologize for what your father did here?”

Emrys didn’t know.

The old man _didn’t know_.

What would he do if…?

Maybe he shouldn’t know.

“I appreciate your protection of Camelot’s interests,” Arthur said as steadily as he could, which wasn’t really steady at all, not tonight. “But I think maybe this one, I should do alone.”

Emrys frowned. “Why?”

Arthur took a deep breath, then deflated with a simple, “I have my reasons.”

“…has such a vague answer ever worked on any of your friends?”

Arthur glared. “I’m not sure we can be considered friends, Emrys.”

“That’s not the point,” the old man said flippantly. “Either a good reason, or I go with you.”

Arthur glared at him, and then glared at his traitorously nonchalant horse, before turning and walking towards the shrine, not slowing down for Emrys’ sake.

The old man fell increasingly behind, and Arthur trudged on and on and on. He may have actually left the old man behind entirely if. But a few steps away from the tree line that would end up leading him to the shrine, Arthur froze as the memories of the raid started coming back.

He could practically see the puddles of blood on the ground. The fact that he knew it was just water and moonlight didn’t stop him from needing to shut his eyes and breathe against the smell of burning flesh.

Emrys found him like this a few moments later. Arthur heard the old man’s footsteps come up towards him, the pace punctuated with thuds of his staff on the ground.

“…they aren’t your father’s debts, are they?” Emrys asked, voice soft and low like he didn’t want to disturb the spirits here.

“No,” Arthur admitted.

The old man sighed. “When was this?”

“A long time ago,” Arthur said. “I – it was my first… I can’t very well call it a battle. It was a raid and nothing less. We came in and slaughtered and I froze. Just… froze up. Watched and did nothing as my men butchered them all, like…like…”

He jerked away when a soft hand landed on his shoulder, whirling around to glare at Emrys.

“I thought I was being kind,” Arthur said. “When I drowned the few stragglers. Drowning had to be better than burning, right? That’s what I told myself.”

Emrys watched with an impassive and expressionless face.

“I don’t know what to do,” Arthur said. “I am standing here and I feel like I’m back there again and I just – I want to bring those spirits justice. I want to make sure it never happens again. But I want to bring Elyan _home_. And Camelot…I can’t abandon my kingdom.”

Arthur swallowed as he stared imploringly at this old man, this stranger-but-not-really he was begging for counsel.

“Well then,” Emrys said finally. “If we want to do all that, we have our work cut out for us.”

The king of Camelot stared incredulously. “Did you not just hear a word I said?!”

“Oh, I heard every word,” Emrys said. “And I meant what I said.”

Arthur sighed. “If I don’t make it ‒”

“You will,” Emrys said, hefting his staff up. “I will ensure it.”

He shut his eyes for a moment of reprieve. “Well, let’s hope so, but just in case… you will look after Camelot in my absence?”

“Of course,” the man said. No hesitation whatsoever, despite the fact that, if Arthur died tonight, Camelot would probably go on hunting sorcerers forever.

“Then I have a favor to ask of you,” Arthur said. “For right now – protect me if you must, but if you see one of my friends – especially my manservant – come near… send them away. I cannot trust them not to interfere. And I think enough people have been hurt on account of my foolishness.”

Sparkling blue eyes softened in pity. God, but Arthur hated pity.

“Of course, sire,” he said softly. “But if you truly wish to do this alone…”

The sorcerer wrapped his arm around the staff, holding it in the crook of his elbow as he brought his hands together, cupping them into a ball. Rather than saying any spells, he simply focused on his hands, his eyes filling with gold.

Within moments, a familiar light started to shine through his fingers, and when those withered old hands pulled apart, the ball of flowing light continued to grow until it was almost the size of Arthur’s head.

“This will guide you in my stead as I take care of your friends,” the sorcerer said.

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “Sincerely.”

Emrys nodded once, and turned and wandered away, vanishing into the shadows between one blink and the next.

Arthur really wished he could do that.

“I guess it’s just you and me again,” Arthur murmured to the ball of light. Inexplicably, it seemed the bounce before slowly drifting towards the shrine.

Arthur started towards the shrine himself, pausing only long enough to make sure the ball of light was keeping up. He kept moving forward, through the trees and the shadows, through the moonlight and the magic light, and through the increasing dread and fear.

Especially the dread.

He stumbled only when he actually saw the shrine – when he saw Elyan standing there, still sopping wet, staring up at him with a child’s rage. He stopped entirely for a moment when, in the small pool of water Elyan was standing beside, he saw not the knight’s reflection but the image of a young boy in the white shift, also glaring up at him.

Arthur had drowned that child when he was barely more than a boy himself. The child hadn’t glared them, only begged for mercy with dying eyes – dying, dying, _dead_ eyes.

But a stumble was all it was. He took a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, and he continued forward.

Time to face justice once and for all.

~*~

In the end, it was…anti-climatic.

_“I swear to treat all your people with respect. With honor. With the dignity they are worth.”_

Too easy. _Wrong_ , that he could get off with no punishment for his sins.

_“And I promise not to fight against any vengeance you feel I deserve.”_

There was no way it could really be this simple.

_“Just…please – let my friend go.”_

And if it weren’t for Elyan, Arthur would protest to the empty air, and ask what kind of justice this was.

But Elyan _was_ there – and it was Elyan in Arthur’s arms, not his body possessed by a spirit. He was there, damp (though no longer soaked) and passed out in Arthur’s arms, moaning softly into the quiet night, and the empty air around them.

Empty. That was what it was. No more magic and not more sound and no more spirits.

Even Emrys’ light was gone, having vanished into the mist of the spirits. Just…empty-

“Arthur?”

Nevermind, then.

Arthur didn’t look up when he heard Merlin’s voice from behind him.

For a few moments, he didn’t respond at all.

“Sire?” Merlin tried again, his voice a little closer this time.

“Did you walk here?” Arthur asked, still keeping his eyes on Elyan, making sure his chest moved with breath. “Or did you bring a horse?”

“I brought Llamrei,” Merlin said. “I take it you’ve… settled everything?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, but some part of him knew that this, at least, was over.

He turned to see Merlin smiling in the moonlight, small and watery but encouraging nonetheless.

“But I think so,” he added.

“That’s good, sire,” Merlin said. “Really. Now let’s go home before either of you catch anything from the cold. You’re both very cranky when you’re ill and I’m the one that has to deal with you.”

He couldn’t help the small, wet laugh that escaped at that. Trust Merlin to have no sense of tact or gravity during a situation like this.

Arthur stood up, slinging one of Elyan’s arms over his shoulders, only for the knight to collapse against Arthur the moment he was upright, still not conscious. Arthur thought of trying to wake the man, but considering everything he’d gone through over the last few days, he instead opted to crouch down and wrap his arms around Elyan’s thighs, standing up with the man slung over his shoulder.

“Take me to the horses,” Arthur said, huffing a little under the weight.

Merlin smiled and led the way, and Arthur followed, pausing only to look back at the shrine one more time.

“I’ll be back soon,” he muttered, before turning forward again.

He could swear he heard a whisper behind him, of someone holding him to his promise.

For the sake of his sanity, he dismissed it as an errant wind.

~*~

Despite Elyan’s weight, it was a fairly short trek back to the horses. Arthur put Elyan on top of Hengroen, and Merlin mounted Hengroen behind him to support the now-half-conscious man, while Arthur himself took to Llamrei’s saddle. He looked over once, and Merlin nodded to show Elyan was settled in, and they took off at an easy pace towards home.

“So,” Merlin said. “What happened?”

“I could be asking you that same question.”

He looked over to see Merlin smirking at him. “If you’re going to have your guards lie for you, I’d suggest making sure they all know to give me the _same_ lie. Once I started getting multiple different answers, I realized where you were probably going.”

Arthur sighed, his head hanging for a moment in exasperation. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“But really,” Merlin said. “How are you and what happened?”

“I’ll explain later, Merlin,” Arthur promised. “But right now…”

“Tired?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “How is everything back home…?”

“Leon and Gwaine managed to distract Agravaine with lots of, um, misdirecting and claiming they lost Elyan, and Percival has been taking over tonight’s patrol. Last I heard, Agravaine was going to bed, and staying there, too.”

Arthur nodded. “One small mercy tonight.”

For another mile or so, they rode in silence.

“Arthur,” Merlin said as they neared the halfway mark between the shrine and the edge of the forest. “Are you – is everything really done?”

“No,” Arthur said. “It’s not done and it never will be. But it’s settled.” He paused. “I think… I think now might be a good time to start pushing the council into changing the laws on magic.”

Merlin sucked in a sharp breath. “Really?”

“Hopefully,” Arthur said. “I – a part of me feels like it’s… it’s making all those people’s deaths in vain, to suddenly reverse my father’s work like this. But I can’t just keep prosecuting people with magic, and _stopping_ killing them isn’t enough, now. Not… not with everything that’s happened.”

“That’s great, Arthur,” Merlin said, voice wavering but delighted. “You – I – that’s great. I’m glad your father’s nonsense accomplished something, tonight.”

Of course.

He took a deep breath. He’d already said this story once, tonight, and he could say it again.

“Actually, Merlin – there’s something I need to tell you about that shrine… and my part in the raid that led to it…”

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

~*~

“Elyan’s doing well,” Merlin said cheerfully as he set out Arthur’s lunch. “He’s talking with the guards he’d hurt when he was possessed.”

“Any of them holding a grudge?” Arthur asked. “Or particularly resentful?”

“A bit, but they are all pretty understanding of the whole ‘getting possessed by a spirit’ thing, so it’ll probably go away, soon,” Merlin said.

“Good,” Arthur said with a sharp nod as he picked up a piece of bread, pointedly ignoring the extra empty plate across from him and Merlin sitting by it. “Elyan cares greatly about what the others think of him, and their well-being.”

“Yes, such a shock, he actually _respects_ those under his command,” Merlin deadpanned as he started snagging the fruits off Arthur’s plate for his own.

One day, he’d reprimand Merlin for taking Arthur’s food from his plate instead of getting his own.

One day.

“And Emrys?” Arthur asked.

Merlin paused in his thievery to frown at him in confusion.

“I’m not an idiot, Merlin, you must’ve contacted him and told him where I was going,” Arthur said. “Though how you found him that fast is beyond me.”

“I’m a servant, I have my ways,” Merlin said cheekily, before taking a bite of his – Arthur’s – bread.

Arthur rolled his eyes and spent a moment chewing on his morning goose. For a while, they ate in companionable silence, with nothing to immediately rush them or requiring urgent attention – a relaxing morning.

Arthur missed mornings like this.

Well, mostly – because he still couldn’t help but feel like something was off about last night. How could it possibly be so simple? And how could it really count as justice, that he only makes a promise to make things better and the people he murdered just…let him go?

_How?_

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, and Arthur looked up. With Merlin’s gentle expression, he realized his melancholy must have shown on his face.

“It feels like I got off too easy,” Arthur said. “They just…a few promises, and they let me go?”

“Well…you’re going to try and keep those promises, aren’t you?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded, nearly offended at the implication he wouldn’t keep his word despite knowing full well it was a rhetorical question.

“Do you think keeping your promises to them will be easy?” Merlin asked, absently tearing at his bread.

Arthur snorted. “I promised justice and fair treatment for their people, Merlin, but after everything my father has done, that is going to be…impossible.”

“Well there’s your answer,” Merlin said, pointing at him with the remains of the bread in his hand before nibbling on another piece. “You think you got off easy? Death is easy. Having to live with what you’ve done, having to live with that impossible task, having to spend the rest of your life trying to fulfill those promises…that is hard.”

That…made a lot of sense, actually.

“It’s going to be hard,” Merlin said. “You might even regret taking such a task upon yourself, one day. It’s harder than just dying, and while those Druids are already dead, this sentence will serve their people far better than your mere death ever could.”

Arthur swallowed, as he started to realize the implications of what he had to do, the vastness of his duties before him.

He would never be able to make up for what he had done, but he had to spend the rest of his life trying – because that is best he could ever do, and it was the least his victims deserved.

Merlin finished with the bread and a small slice of Arthur’s sausage, and got up to start puttering about the room, popping a grape or an apple slice into his mouth whenever he passed the table but otherwise focusing on collecting Arthur’s dirty clothes and folding the cleaned laundry, organizing his papers, everything.

Arthur didn’t miss Merlin pointedly leaving alone the missive on Arthur’s desk, the parchment empty save for the _Dear Guinevere_ at the top.

“Are you going to tell her?” Merlin asked. “About Elyan and everything?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I’m just hoping she doesn’t decide to come running back to Camelot.”

“She won’t,” Merlin assured him. “She’s not stupid, she knows doing so after a letter like that is just begging to be captured by Morgana.” He paused. “Also, this time of year, the village will need every pair of hands they can get, and Gwen takes her promises just as seriously as you do.”

Arthur sighed. “I know, just…I was thinking about trying to send Elyan there – so someone can check on her, see how she is doing and so she can see that Elyan is fine in person.”

“Don’t,” Merlin said. “Sending her a written message is going to be risky enough, and you know it. Sending Elyan will lead Morgana straight to her.”

Arthur did. They could only communicate by wrapping up their own letters inside those exchanged between Merlin and his mother. While Merlin had kept in touch with Hunith over the years, sending letters to a village like Ealdor was expensive and not done regularly. Arthur could certainly afford it, but if Morgana cared to look she might become suspicious of a sudden increase in the messages between them.

However miniscule the likelihood, Arthur was taking no chances, now. Especially with Guinevere out in Ealdor, completely unprotected except for her anonymity.

Arthur glanced over at the desk again, and could feel the parchment mocking him for wanting to drag her home and keep her wrapped up safe and sound against everyone’s best interests.

“You’ve got the council meeting for lunch,” Merlin said, finally delving into their more usual morning routine. “You’ll have to explain everything about Elyan to them, and might want to put in a few more misdirecting comments about Guinevere. Agravaine will be on high alert and if he hasn’t already communicated with Morgana somehow, he will be sure to soon, to let her know what’s happening. Maybe just say he’s traveling to the southern posts and don’t explain why, they’ll all draw their own conclusions. Then, you’re helping Gwaine and Leon test the new recruits. After that, you’re inspecting some of the rebuilt roads from the lower town around the walls, and meeting with those lords from the river-west fiefdom from there. You said you’ll have dinner in here with the knights, tonight.”

“Right,” Arthur said. “Make sure my armor and sword are all ready and have the crop-records prepared for the meeting tonight.”

“Of course, sire,” Merlin said. He collected the laundry and Arthur’s sword-belt, placed the letter to Guinevere with a quill and pen by Arthur’s side on the table, and left humming a cheerful melody horrifically out of tune.

Arthur pointedly didn’t look at the letter, instead focusing on finishing his breakfast.

~*~

“Not bad,” Gwaine said as Arthur came off the field, handing over the water-skin while looking approvingly at the latest recruit to last longer than a minute against Arthur’s barrage.

“We’ve had a good selection to get the new knights from,” Leon said. “The nobles are starting to take your acceptances of commoner-knights seriously, they’re sending over more boys from their fields as well as their courts.”

Arthur looked over to see the newest knight of Camelot talking excitedly with some of the other boys, mostly others who had already been accepted or who had yet to be tested. The ones that failed usually headed off the field. The ones who came close to the one-minute mark, the men that would be allowed to try again at the end of the day, were talking quietly amongst themselves or training. The rest of those who’d already failed by too far, the ones that would have to wait two seasons before trying again, stormed off in a disappointed and simmering rage.

“I’m not complaining,” Percival said. “We could use all the help we can get.”

“Probably the other reason we’re getting so many recruits to play with,” Gwaine said. Despite his lazy posture, he observed the new recruits that still had to be tested with a sharp eye, while Leon checked over Arthur’s sword.

“How’s Elyan?” Percival asked.

“He is well, for now,” Arthur said. “Provided today’s fussing satisfies Gaius’ mother-henning instincts, Elyan should be back with us tomorrow. The guards are recovering and what little ill-will they bear towards him seems likely to fade.”

“I still don’t like it,” Gwaine grumbled. “All this nonsense with the spirits, and you ‒”

“Shouldn’t have sneaked off and shouldn’t have risked my life and shouldn’t have trusted Emrys,” Arthur recited, with a raised eyebrow towards Gwaine, who was completely unrepentant about his nagging. “I know, and I’m sorry, but it had to be done.”

“Are you actually upset about Arthur being an idiot,” Leon asked Gwaine, and one day Arthur would chide them for so openly insulting him. Really. “Or are you just upset because Emrys was there?”

“I don’t _like_ him,” Gwaine said. “He’s keeping something from us.”

“Well, yes? We know that?” Leon pointed out.

“No, I mean – something big, something important. Something we really need to know. I can feel it.”

“I agree,” Percival said. “We need to find it out.”

“Can we ask Merlin?” Leon asked. “He seems to know Emrys well, he can always find the old coot in a heartbeat.”

Arthur shook his head. “Do you really think Emrys will allow any of us to find out what it is? We will keep sharp around him and not lose our vigilance, but for now he seems to be helping us. We can accept his help without having to trust him. Based on what I’ve seen of his magic, he’s been hiding around us for years, and he’s only just starting to talk to me, to open up to us. I am _not_ going to lose that kind of support again, not yet.”

Gwaine turned again, still grumbling at an exasperated Percival. Leon, however, leaned in to Arthur’s side and said, “How are you? Really?”

Arthur pursed his lips. “I’m fine.”

“Arthur ‒”

“And if not, I will be,” Arthur continued. “The council is already unhappy about me trying to put together some reforms on our laws about magic, I still have to contact Guinevere, and Agravaine is being more careful than ever. All of this…right now, I just want to take this one day at a time.”

“Of course, sire,” Leon said. “But please – don’t forget to think about tomorrow while you try to take care of today.”

“I won’t,” Arthur said. He glanced back at the field. “How many more?”

“Just four,” Leon said. “Then the wall?”

“Percival and I will be inspecting the new roads by the wall,” Arthur said.

“Provided Percival doesn’t get distracted playing with the small children again?” Leon asked, amused.

Arthur nodded with something approaching a grin. There was a reason he usually brought Percival along for his inspections in the lower town, and anywhere else there were guaranteed to be lots of small children.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “Hopefully you’ll find something interesting to distract the council for a day or two.”

Leon cocked his head, asking for explanation without saying a word.

“They have been dropping hints that my ‘closest confidantes’ are actually just traitors in waiting due to everything that had happened recently, saying it seemed like too many incidents to be a few flukes,” he said.

“Haven’t they been doing so for a while?” Leon asked.

“Yes, but today I actually pointed out that it’s not a series of incidents, but on long, continuous attack from Morgana to turn my inner circle against me.” He paused. “I had just been hoping to ease their suspicions, but I think I threw them too far in the opposite direction and now they seem to be in a bit of a panic.”

Leon laughed. “Percival and I will find something, then, I’m sure.”

He traded the waterskin to Leon for his sword back, and with a reassuring pat on his shoulder from Leon, Arthur turned, sharply on his heel, stepped back onto the field, and shouted, “Next!”

~*~

“You’ll get fat if you keep eating like this,” Merlin said, setting out the platters of food for the knights’ dinner while glancing disapprovingly at the sweetmeat Arthur had already plucked up and started munching on as he glared at the notes from the meeting.

“Stop being such a fishwife,” Arthur said. “When are the knights going to get here?”

“Should be…right…about…”

There was a knock at the door.

“Now!”

Merlin grinned at Arthur before opening the door.

The knights came in one-by-one, dressed largely in their less-noticeable common clothes rather than their armor or formal wear. Gwaine and Leon were still arguing about some of the day’s new recruits while Merlin started pouring drinks for the knights once they were seated.

For a moment after everyone was seated, the table was quiet as everyone started eating.

But they were knights of Camelot, so it was really only a moment. By the time Merlin sat down beside Arthur, they were all clamoring over each other for an explanation.

It took Arthur practically shouting, “One at a time, children!” for them to quiet down enough for Merlin say, “How about I tell the story?”

“What more is there to say?” Arthur asked. “The spirit went to the shrine, I followed, I had a little chat with the spirits and they left Elyan alone.”

“What did you _say_ , though?” Gwaine asked. “We know you, Princess, what did you promise them in exchange for Elyan?”

“…respect,” Arthur said. “Really. I know, it’s unbelievable, I’m still having trouble believing it sometimes, but really, I just promised to show them, and the Druids, respect.”

“What, exactly, is that going to mean?” Leon asked.

Arthur stalled by taking a particularly large bite of his venison as he thought it over. Something deep inside him, the part that was still Uther’s son more than anything else, rebelled against what he was planning to do.

The rest of him wanted to rebel against his father’s horrific actions, and regretted not doing so sooner.

“Arthur?” Percival asked when Arthur swallowed.

“I,” Arthur said, “am going to change our laws on magic. I won’t just stop killing people for it – I will make it legal again, and open in Camelot.”

For a moment, they could’ve heard a mouse sneak across the bed, the room was so quiet. Only Merlin was unsurprised, and was smiling proudly, but the knights stared in unmasked shock.

“You’re serious?” Elyan asked.

“I’m serious,” Arthur confirmed

“You’re serious,” Leon echoed blankly in realization as he looked at Arthur’s face.

“…what did Emrys _do_?!”

They all looked towards Gwaine at the vehement declaration.

“Gwaine?” Merlin asked in confusion.

“Don’t sidestep this, we know he was there,” Gwaine said. “How did he ‒”

“I ran into Emrys in the forest when I was looking for Arthur,” Merlin said quickly.

“You _sent_ him after Arthur?!” Gwaine cried out. Merlin flinched. “Merlin, you know he can’t be trusted!”

Merlin looked inexplicably hurt by this, but said, “Gwaine – he…I…I was looking for Arthur. I’d lost my way a bit haring after him. Emrys found us the way and…he went a little ahead to have a moment to speak with Arthur.”

“You just left Arthur alone with him?” Gwaine asked incredulously.

“I’m not a child,” Arthur muttered, before shoving a spoonful of berries into his mouth, letting their tanginess spare him the intense humiliation thinking of his childhood often brought him.

“Not _alone_ , I was nearby!” Merlin protested. “Look what happened the last time I left Arthur alone! I just…kept a discreet distance. Arthur was clearly stressed and talking to Emrys seemed to help him right then.”

“Wait,” Arthur said. “Did you overhear us?”

“…yes?” Merlin said.

Which meant he’d already heard Arthur’s confession the first time around.

“Why didn’t you say so, sooner?” he demanded, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. No wonder Merlin has been so blank-faced during Arthur’s explanation of the truth.

“You looked like you needed to talk about it.”

Arthur had no response for how plaintively Merlin said that. He returned his attentions to his food, instead, as the conversation continued to flow around him.

“You can’t just leave a random sorcerer with the king of Camelot!” Gwaine shouted.

“This one isn’t random, it’s Emrys,” Percival pointed out. “He’s been on our side for a while, now, and for whatever reason he likes Arthur.”

“It’s not ‘whatever reason’,” Merlin said. “He has an agenda – he wants magic legalized, wants the executions and raids to stop. He just wants it done with Arthur as king. Hence why he’s always helping us, he wants us to see magic can be a force for good again.”

“Can it?” Leon asked.

“Well, yes?” Merlin said, the _obviously_ dripping unsaid from his voice.

“How would you know?” Elyan asked quietly. “All the magic here in Camelot is…”

For a moment, Merlin stared, seemingly over Elyan’s shoulder, lost in thoughts. Arthur recognized the look and could easily guess its cause. Quietly, he filled in for him, informing the others, “He grew up with a sorcerer.”

Merlin blinked at him, apparently still stuck in his daze. Or memories – Arthur could sympathize.

“Who?” Gwaine asked.

“His best friend from his village, Ealdor,” Arthur said. “His name was Will, right?”

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded.

“What was he like, then?” Percival asked, voice thankfully gentle. Merlin looked like one sour glance could knock him out of his chair.

“He was…he was an ass, really,” Merlin said, a soft smile spreading on his face as he stared sightlessly at his fork. “But a good man underneath it all.”

“Now why does that sound familiar?” Gwaine drawled, looking pointedly at Arthur. Arthur glared, and Gwaine only smiled back, his aggression of a moment ago gone in the face of an emotionally vulnerable Merlin.

“He used it… _we_ used to get into all sorts of mischief,” Merlin said. “But really no more than what we would’ve done without it. And…the magic did good things, too, like make the water last longer in dryer planting seasons, or help the chickens all lay just that one more egg, or fix up some clothing, that sort of thing.” He paused. “Though usually the clothing had to be mended because of something that was…that was his fault, anyway.”

Leon snorted.

“Are you sure it wasn’t you?” Arthur asked.

Merlin blushed and looked down at his plate.

“Well, look,” Gwaine said. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and more importantly, what’s going to happen next. Emrys is an unknown factor ‒”

“Not that unknown,” Merlin mumbled.

“Well, we don’t exactly know him as well as you do,” Gwaine said. He stared down at his wine goblet and promptly drained half of it before continuing. “I mean, how do you even know him, anyway?”

“It’s…complicated,” Merlin said.

“I think we can handle complicated,” Leon said dryly.

“Well, I know him through Gaius, mostly,” Merlin said. “I – when Arthur’s father was poisoned, Gaius found out the only cure would be a magical one. We found the only sorcerer who would be willing to help. You all know most of what happened since then.”

“Do we?” Gwaine challenged. “Because honestly, it feels like he came out of nowhere ‒”

“Except he didn’t,” Elyan said. “He was here years ago, and nearly got Gwen killed trying to make Arthur fall in love with her magically ‒”

“No he didn’t,” Merlin said quietly.

Everyone looked at him in askance. Merlin seemed to be trying to figure out how to word his response, but before he could, Arthur asked, “Morgana?”

Merlin nodded.

“What?” Leon asked in confusion.

“Morgana set Gwen up,” Merlin said finally. “I was…I was going to try and frame myself or find a way to expose Morgana, but Gaius said someone owed him a favor and out came this random old man who I thought was _just_ a random old man. And then he was a sorcerer. But he was a sorcerer who was willing to help us save Gwen.”

“He’s been around for a lot longer than that, if he was really the one who helped us with the Lamia,” Arthur said. “And if not, then that means we have another sorcerer lurking about, helping us. At this point, I’m not sure which option is worse.”

“What do you mean?” Percival asked. “What does the Lamia incident have to do with it?”

“There was a light,” Arthur said. “One that helped us kill the beast and one that led me to Merlin, where you had…where he had been left.”

The knights all looked away from Merlin at the mention of the dreadful incident, and Merlin crossed his arms in an indignant huff.

“That light was familiar to me,” Arthur explained. “I’d seen it before, years ago. Which means there is a sorcerer helping us…who has _been_ helping us for a long, long time.”

“When was the first time you saw it?” Elyan asked.

“About…” Arthur thought. God, it had been so long ago. “Half a decade ago.”

“What happened?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur speared a piece of meat on his fork and used it to point at Merlin. “This idiot had just poisoned himself in front of the whole court.”

“Oi!” Merlin protested, batting Arthur’s fork away with his own. “I saved your life.”

“I know,” Arthur said. He paused a moment to sip at his wine before continuing, addressing the rest of the knights. “And I’d gone after the flower that would cure him to return the favor. But the witch behind the poisoning – Nimueh – was clever. The only cure for this poisoning was on a nearly inaccessible cliff, defended by another monstrous beast, and herself. She tricked me and left me hanging – literally – in a treacherous cave. Giant spiders were coming and it was dark and I thought for sure Merlin and I were both doomed. But then that light appeared and showed me the way out. I got the flower and got home and was able to get the cure to Merlin.”

“Sounds like this sorcerer likes _Merlin_ ,” Gwaine said, with a surprisingly amused smile. “I hope it’s not Emrys.”

“Really?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because Emrys isn’t to be trusted, he’s a force to be reckoned with who _shouldn’t_ be. Whoever this other sorcerer is that’s helping Merlin ‒”

“I’m pretty sure is still Emrys,” Merlin said.

Gwaine sighed. “Damn it.”

“You really hate Emrys, don’t you?” Elyan asked.

“What gave it away?” Gwaine deadpanned. Merlin was looking steadfastly at his plate, and Arthur wondered yet again just who Emrys was to Merlin.

“You never seemed to hate magic before, Gwaine,” Percival said.

“It’s not _magic_ that’s the problem, I’ve met other magic users before that weren’t evil in kingdoms outside of Camelot – very fun sometimes, too, for a variety of reasons. It’s just Emrys I don’t trust.” Gwaine waved his goblet in the air to emphasize his point before finally draining it entirely.

Merlin got up to refill his goblet, and everyone else’s, saying, “So we’ve established magic can be used for good and evil and neither one. It’s just the evil ones that keep coming to Camelot.”

“Or that Camelot turns them evil,” Arthur said bluntly. “I’d like to think Morgana would never have turned on us if it weren’t for my father’s hatred.”

“I don’t think it’s your father’s hatred that did this to her, not entirely,” Merlin interjected.

Arthur frowned. “Then who…?”

The manservant gave him a pointed look. “She spent a _year_ with Morgause, Arthur, what do you think?”

Arthur shut his eyes. “I…I know. But…if it weren’t for Uther’s laws, then Morgause would never have had reason to hate us, either.”

Merlin took his seat again, and for a moment, the silence pressed down on them all until the only thing Arthur could hear was his own chewing.

Finally, Leon said, “So how, exactly, do you plan to change the laws on magic?”

“Slowly,” Arthur said. “Very slowly. They’ve only been here for a few decades, but they have had a devastating impact on the kingdom. The details of this transition, I will probably work out with the council, but I do know that the only way to do this with the least amount of bloodshed possible will be to do it slowly.”

“And when Morgana hears about it?” Merlin asked. “I don’t think she’ll be happy about this, despite it being her goal. Will you be welcoming her back?”

He took a deep, steadying breath. “If Morgana is ever captured, she will be tried and punished for her crimes of leading an army against Camelot and slaughtering the citizens,” Arthur said. “But not for the magic, no.”

“Wonderful,” Leon muttered. “This is all going to go horribly, isn’t it?”

Elyan snorted, but said nothing.

“When does it not?” Arthur said. He sighed and looked at Merlin. “Tell Emrys we need to talk. I’m not going to be able to do this without getting sorcerers on our side first, in some capacity, _any_ capacity.”

“I’ll…see what I can do,” Merlin said.

Gwaine practically attacked the slice of meat on his plate, and Merlin just looked woefully at the man.

“You really seem to like him,” Percival asked.

Merlin glanced at him. “He saved Arthur, he was willing to save Uther, despite all he had done to people like him, and…sorcerers who are willing to help Camelot are…valuable, rare. I want to be a friend to them, so they will be a friend to us. Emrys seems to be the only one so far.”

“Why are you so invested in magic being legalized?” Elyan asked, curious.

“Why not?” Merlin asked, moving his food around his plate blindly. “You know my opinions on magic. I don’t want to see people killed for something that can do so much good in the world.” He bit his lip. “There is so much more Gaius could do to help people if he was allowed to use his magic again.”

“You really have grown up surrounded by magic,” Leon asked. “Haven’t you?”

Merlin didn’t answer, and none of the knights pushed him any further. For a few moments, they all focused their attentions on their food, and Arthur ate steadily through the food on his plate as he pondered Merlin’s circumstances.

This was the man who once reminded Arthur magic was evil, except it turned out he didn’t believe it. This was the man who nearly got himself killed more than once for Arthur within months of working for him – Arthur, who Merlin knew would have slaughtered his best friend if he’d found out the truth back then.

Arthur wondered what he would’ve done if Will hadn’t been killed that day in Ealdor. Probably left Merlin behind, or banned Will from entering Camelot.

Arthur wondered if he would’ve sent Guinevere there if Will were still alive. Would he be more likely to protect her, or less? Well, no, he didn’t wonder, because he knew the answer, it would be more – but only because she was Merlin’s friend, not because she was the future queen of Camelot. How much could he have done? Could Will have had the power to withstand an attack from Morgana, if it came down to it?

They’d never know.

He drained his wine and let Merlin refill it as he stared into the fire, remembering the pyre that nearly burned Gaius, or Dragoon or Emrys or ‒

He tried not to think about it. After it was over, Arthur had done his absolute best to not think about the fact Gaius used to be a sorcerer. But wasn’t magic always there in someone?

Was Gaius still doing magic, quietly healing and saving lives with the very art that could kill him?

It would explain why Merlin was so invested in legalizing magic. Not to mention how Merlin knew so much about it. Really, the only question was why Gaius wasn’t teaching him magic directly ‒

Arthur could feel every bone in his body freeze in tension like a too-tight bowstring about to snap as the implications hit him.

There was no way to be sure he wasn’t.

“Arthur?” someone asked, and he didn’t hear them, staring at the plate of vegetables in the middle of the table.

If Gaius was practicing magic – and more and more it was obvious he was still doing it in _some_ capacity – then Merlin was seeing it. Merlin was seeing it, he was learning it, and Merlin was the idiot would do anything to help someone else in need, no matter what it would do to him.

“Sire?”

Even if it meant learning something that could get him killed.

“Oi, Princess!”

Or, more likely – if it meant using something he’d always had. Because Arthur knew enough about magic to know it was both something you were born with and something you learned. It would explain why he was such close friends with Will in Ealdor.

“…Arthur?”

Maybe it was why he went to Gaius in the first place.

“Merlin,” Arthur said finally, snapping out of his reverie. “Explain it to me again, how you knew so quickly that the shrine was cursed.”

“Well, I mean, it’s a little complicated and I’d have to explain a lot of Gaius’ background and theories, and stuff, but when I felt the chill surrounding the area ‒”

“With your magic?” he interrupted. Everyone froze at Arthur’s quiet demand. When he looked up from his plate, Merlin was paler than Arthur’s sheets, and the longer Arthur stared at him, the more Merlin’s hand shook around the fork he was holding.

“Did you feel it,” Arthur growled. “With your _own_ magic?”

“What are you talking about?” Gwaine asked in confusion. He opened his mouth and turned, only for his lips to smack shut when his gaze landed on Merlin.

“I ‒” Merlin seemed to choke. “What- I don’t…Arthur?”

The knights all turned to look at Merlin in surprise, half of them glancing back at Arthur.

“Did you feel the spirits of the shrine because of your own magic?” Arthur said. Merlin opened his mouth, and Arthur had to add, “Do not lie to me, Merlin. You are standing on thin ice with all your secrecy and lies as it is. I’ve had enough.”

Arthur carefully set down the goblet before any of his drink could spill in his own shaking hand. He pressed his fist into the table, as if he could gain the table’s stability just by doing so.

Merlin’s hand was shaking as he set his fork down.

“Now I’m only going to ask you one more time,” Arthur said. “Did you feel the spirits of the shrine with _your own magic_?”

Merlin swallowed, once, twice, then ‒

“Yes.”

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Concrit is ♥. :)
> 
> **Teaser:**
> 
> _Arthur finally shoved his chair away from the table, standing up and pacing to his window. He gripped the stone ledge and breathed deeply, trying to get his heart – his rage and hurt and disappointment and everything he just did not have a name for – under control._
> 
> _He was trying to be a good king – act, not react. Arthur could rise above his emotions, the lump in his throat and the way the air suddenly seemed too thick to breathe in properly._
> 
> _He could, but god it was so hard to do._


	5. Chapter 5

~*~

_“Now I’m only going to ask you one more time,” Arthur said. “Did you feel the spirits of the shrine with_ your own magic _?”_

_Merlin swallowed, once, twice, then-_

_“Yes.”_

For a moment, Arthur could swear he heard the sound of a mouse breathing, the room was so quiet. He stared at Merlin, his best friend and confidant and manservant and half of _everything_ over the last half a decade ‒

Merlin had lied to him.

Gwaine’s “You’re joking, right?” barely broke Arthur’s reverie as he stared at his... at Merlin.

Merlin shut his eyes, letting go of his fork entirely.

“You can’t have magic. You... you can’t – you’re... you’ve been here for years!” Leon sputtered.

“I know,” Merlin said.

“Your fight with me,” Arthur said slowly. “Your first fight, that day in the marketplace.”

Merlin bit his lip. “Okay, so, maybe you weren’t wrong about the cheating ‒”

“Prove it,” Elyan said, leaning forward. “Do – something. Prove you have magic. Because you are one of my closest friends, one of all of our closest friends, and I genuinely can’t believe ‒”

Every single candle in the room went out, all at once, with not a trace of wind. There was only the fire, dimming though not gone, at Merlin’s back, throwing him in shadow and making the glowing of his eyes all the more prominent.

All the more horrifying.

The knights all shouted in alarm, Leon actually backing away from Merlin as Percival snapped, “Put them back!”

When the candles were all brightly lit and the gold had faded away, everyone was staring at Merlin in horror – Gwaine looking the most heartbroken of them all.

Arthur had no idea what he looked like. He still wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

“You’ve had magic all this time?” Elyan asked.

“How long have you had it?” Leon asked.

Merlin looked down at his plate.

“Since before he came here,” Arthur said around the lump in his throat. It was a mysterious lump that Arthur was entirely blaming Merlin for. “I presume?” he added, mentally cursing the slight crack in his voice. Merlin nodded without looking up.

“That... that long?” Gwaine asked. Dear god, the man’s voice was _wavering_.

“I... my magic was growing and I didn’t know anything about it, so my mother sent me here to learn about it and get a grip on it.”

“Here?” Elyan asked incredulously.

“Gaius,” Percival stated with barely a hint of a question in his voice. Merlin didn’t respond, but that was answer enough.

Arthur took a deep breath. “So you felt the evil spirits in the shrine with your own magic.”

“That’s – that’s why I tried so desperately to get you all out of there.” Merlin still wasn’t looking up from his plate. “It’s why the Lamia didn’t affect me, and it’s why... well, a lot of things. I...” Merlin finally looked up. “I think you can guess most of them.”

Arthur finally shoved his chair away from the table, standing up and pacing to his window. He gripped the stone ledge and breathed deeply, trying to get his heart – his rage and hurt and disappointment and everything he just did not have a name for – under control.

He was trying to be a good king – act, not react. Arthur could rise above his emotions, the lump in his throat and the way the air suddenly seemed too thick to breathe in properly.

He could, but god it was so hard to do.

“All this time,” Arthur said, shutting his eyes and cursing how broken his voice was. “And you were lying to me. About – it can’t have been just your magic, you must’ve – what about...”

He didn’t finish, just stood there and ignored the sound of another chair moving. Barely moved, so it must’ve been Leon.

“You didn’t tell _any_ one?” Elyan asked as Arthur opened his eyes again.

In the reflection in the window, he saw Merlin shake his head. “Lancelot knew,” Merlin admitted.

“You told Lancelot?!” Gwaine asked incredulously.

“No,” Merlin said, his voice sounding more and more numb with every word. “He... he found out, entirely by accident. I haven’t... I’ve only told one or two people in my life, mostly anyone who knows just found out by accident.”

Arthur laughed. “Or figured it out!” He shook his head, still keeping his gaze locked firmly on the lights of the city outside. “So much makes sense now – I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

Silence. Then ‒

“Or did you enchant him?” Percival asked regretfully.

“He didn’t want to see anything strange about me,” Merlin said.

“You didn’t actually answer the question,” Leon said.

Merlin didn’t say anything more.

“...Merlin?” Leon asked. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t ‒”

“ _What did you do?!_ ” Leon asked viciously.

“I only ever helped him, cured him or something if he needed!” Merlin protested immediately.

Arthur could see a faint reflection of the room in the window glass. Leon had his hands on the back of Merlin’s chair, looming over him with something between rage and despair on his face. Elyan was concerned and analytical, holding a blacksmith’s eye on the situation. Percival’s face was scrunched up in hurt that did little to temper the confusion in his eyes.

Gwaine was just staring and didn’t seem to know what to feel. Arthur supposed that made two of them.

Merlin looked scared, scared and desperate and ‒

And Arthur didn’t even know what.

He focused on the facts.

“You lied to me.”

“To protect myself, and that’s it!” Merlin cried out.

“You never told any of us,” Gwaine said, his voice so low Arthur almost didn’t hear. “Merlin... why didn’t you ever tell _me_?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, _Sir_ Gwaine?” Arthur called out over his shoulder.

Gwaine whirled out of his chair, and Arthur could see his shape, see enough in the dim reflection to realize Gwaine was half-poised to fight.

“I would never have allowed any harm to come to him and you know it,” Gwaine hissed. Then he half turned back to the table. “Even if apparently he doesn’t ‒”

“It’s not like that, Gwaine,” Merlin said. He started to stand up, but Leon put a hand on his shoulder firmly pushing him back down. Merlin didn’t appear to notice, continuing with, “Do you think I _liked_ living a lie?!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gwaine said, crossing his arms in front of him. “Considering ‒”

“Don’t you dare,” Merlin cut him off, narrowing his eyes. “You – you’ve kept your own important secrets-”

“That _you_ must’ve told Emrys!”

Everyone froze for a moment, as Merlin clutched onto the edge of the table and hunched over himself, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room.

“How else could he have known?” Gwaine asked. “I told you that in confidence ‒”

“How are you so sure he knew?” Merlin asked.

The knight blinked. “...you’re kidding, right?”

Merlin still wouldn’t look up. “You make a vague reference like that, play with your tone of voice, and other people will fill in the blanks for you, making assumptions and- it’s just.. .a trick.”

“Did you learn that from him?” Elyan asked.

“Is he your teacher or something?” Gwaine asked.

“It’s... complicated,” Merlin said finally. “I... I can’t ‒”

“You _can’t_?” Arthur asked incredulously, rounding on Merlin. “Really? You’re going to try that now? You _can’t_ ‒”

“I mean it,” Merlin said. “You know I would have told you if I could.”

“You’ve had plenty of opportunities, Merlin, times when you knew I wouldn’t hurt you, when…” Arthur leaned against the wall, his knees feeling weak as he half-sat on the window ledge. “And... where does Morgana factor into all this?”

The room felt colder as his question seeped through it.

“Morgana...” The name sounded almost like a whimper on Merlin’s lips. “I tried to help her. It didn’t work.”

“And you never _once_ thought to come talk to me?”

“I thought about it all the time,” Merlin told him, his tone growing wistful. “But every single moment I thought it was okay, every instance I thought, ‘this is it, this is the time,’ something would happen and it... it wasn’t the right time, anymore.”

Arthur snorted, trying to think. He had to figure out so much from his past, relearn his memories, and he had no idea where to start.

Well, no – he had one.

“The lights,” Arthur asked. “Both times they appeared out of nowhere, they led me to you.”

“That only happens when I’m unconscious.” Merlin said. “It’s a type of... instinct. My magic reacting, helping me survive by leading you to whatever will help me.”

“So they _were_ you?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “But – only if I was ever in dire straits. In true danger of dying.” He paused.

“And still you said nothing?” Elyan asked.

Merlin didn’t answer that one.

“Did you learn it from Emrys?” Arthur asked. “He made that light, too.”

“…something like that,” Merlin hedged.

“You never told anyone yourself?” Arthur asked. “Not even Will?”

“...he found out by accident, too,” Merlin said quietly. 

“Was he a sorcerer at all?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin shook his head, his eyes haunted. “He – he knew he was dying. So he took the fall for it so you wouldn’t kill me.”

Arthur froze, head to heart, at that thought. He could just see it now – if Will hadn’t made that claim, if he’d learned about Merlin’s magic then...

He couldn’t say for sure what he would’ve done then. He would like to think he would’ve simply banned Merlin from Camelot, forbidding him from ever entering Camelot again. But he knew his memories were tainted by years of friendship with Merlin.

He knew there was a very real chance that in fury or in the name of false justice, he would’ve run Merlin through with his sword, either right there ‒ in front of Hunith no less ‒ or after taking him back to Camelot for trial.

The thought left him colder than the northern ice fields, than the poison of the Questing Beast, than the stagnant death that had permeated his bones in the Fisher King’s lands.

Despite the fury, the betrayal, it was a thought he couldn’t bear, and he turned his head sharply away, feeling too weak to stand up enough to turn his entire body away.

“Get out,” Arthur said.

“Please, Arthur, I never meant to hurt you ‒”

“Did you not just hear me?” Arthur asked, shutting his eyes and pressing his cheek to the corner of stone.

“Arthur,” Leon tried this time.

“Get out!” Arthur shouted. “All of you, just – leave me at once!”

For a moment, there was stunned silence, and Arthur knew without looking up that this knights and his manservant – his closest friends in the world, save perhaps Guinevere – were all staring at him in hurt and shock.

Well, maybe Gwaine wasn’t, maybe he was still staring at Merlin. Arthur wasn’t going to check.

“Just _go_ ,” Arthur said, not caring how broken and hoarse his voice was now.

“Of course, milord,” Merlin said. The title pierced through Arthur’s heart like an enchanted icicle, and the little hiss of pain that he could not contain was thankfully drowned out by the scraping of chairs as all of them got up, and the sound of them picking up their plates to finish their meals on their own.

They were silent as they filed out. Painfully so.

Arthur was only able to open his eyes once he heard the sound of the door shutting, and was unsurprised to see Gwaine still standing there, staring at Merlin’s vacated chair. Arthur stared at the stupid empty chair, too. It was no different from the other chairs, from the seats of the knights, because in these chambers and at this dining table, they had all never been anything more than friends, close friends dedicated to this kingdom, no matter what formalities they sometimes used out of habit.

And it was from that seat that his best friend called him _milord_.

The eerie stillness was only broken by Gwaine snapping up his wine goblet and draining the whole thing in two gulps. Without pause in his movements, he grabbed the pitcher, refilled it, and promptly drained half of the next glass in one go.

“Before,” Arthur said, then stopped when Gwaine flinched at the sound of his voice. He let Gwaine take another swallow of the wine, then continued, “Before, when you asked why Merlin didn’t tell _you_...what would you have done if you had?”

“I would’ve protected him,” Gwaine said, lips almost smacking but not quite. The drink would start to affect his speech soon. “Probably would’ve tried to talk him into leaving Camelot. Probably wouldn’t have worked, knowing him. And from then on – I would’ve kept his secret.”

“And?”

“And what?” Gwaine challenged. He finished this goblet and poured himself another, but this time he just cradled the wine to his chest, staring deep into it as he leaned against the table. “He would’ve had one more ally in protecting you and saving Camelot.”

“...and if I’d found out?” Arthur said.

Gwaine shut his eyes. He drank some more wine, sipping and stalling for time.

“Well?”

Still nothing, just more swallows.

“If you had to choose between me and him ‒”

“Don’t ask me that!”

The goblet must’ve been empty, because nothing sloshed over when Gwaine slammed the goblet down on the table.

“Why not?” Arthur demanded. His cold fear was melting back into hot rage, and he found at least enough energy to stand upright again, though he didn’t leave the safety of his window just yet.

“Because I don’t know!” Gwaine said, standing upright himself and turning to face Arthur. “I don’t – I can’t...”

“Who is your loyalty to?” Arthur asked lowly, curling his hand around the corner of stone between wall and window alcove. “Me or him?”

“There _is_ no ‘you or him’, Princess, there never was – it’s always been you _and_ him!” Gwaine shouted, waving a hand in his direction. The movement obviously set him off-balance, because he grabbed the back of the nearest chair as if he were about to fall over – a real fear, if the wine was just starting to hit him.

“Gwaine ‒”

“There was never any choosing between you two because there never was any ‘between you two’ to begin with,” Gwaine reiterated. “You – you are bloody attached at the hip and Merlin is always loyal to you and Camelot and you are always loyal to him and Camelot and you – you’re both just one – I don’t know, one _thing_ , and I can’t – I’d sooner have better luck ripping myself in half before trying to choose one of you over the other.”

Arthur snorted. “And yet you’d keep his secrets?”

“To protect you from your own damn stupidity!” Gwaine snarled. He jerked on the chair and fell into it, grasping desperately at the arms of the chair to hold himself up. “Merlin – he cares about you and Camelot and we both know that whatever he has or can do would always go there, first, and magic is no different. I’ve been to other kingdoms, Arthur, I’ve seen magic that isn’t evil long before Merlin. I wouldn’t... he would never turn against you or Camelot.”

“Even if I turned against him?” Arthur challenged.

Gwaine snorted, and Arthur lowered his head, conceding Gwaine’s silent point. Unless Merlin was a much, much, _much_ better liar than they all thought, then the only thing he would’ve done upon Arthur’s orders for his arrest and execution would be to run.

Arthur would have let him.

“He just... he had to have known I would never hurt him,” Gwaine said, and his eyes were cloudy and wet as he stared into the nothingness of Arthur’s massive chambers. Arthur was going to have to dim the candles and bank the fire himself, and that seemed like an impossibly large task now that Merlin was gone. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“We both know what fear can do to a man,” Arthur said after a moment. Gwaine laughed, something that was probably closer to a sob but dry and too full of darkness to relate to tears.

“We _all_ know what fear can do,” he said.

Arthur didn’t know what to say to that, so instead he asked, “Can you make it to your chambers?”

Gwaine nodded.

“Without dropping your dinner?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine shook his head. “I’m not – I can’t eat any more tonight.”

“You’ll be even more miserable tomorrow morning if you don’t put something in your stomach now,” Arthur said quietly, pushing away from the wall and moving towards the table, blowing out the candles on the candle-stand along the way.

“I’m going to be miserable no matter what, so I don’t need to add being sick on top of it,” Gwaine replied, placing his hand on the table-top for leverage.

It took a few tries but eventually he managed to push himself to his feet. He rounded the table, then moved to the door, and within moments Arthur was alone in his chambers at last.

He went around blowing out candles, until there was only the fire left. He stood by the mantle and stared into the large, dim room. Without Merlin here to pester him into bed and wish him irritating dreams, it seemed so much darker than normal.

Arthur changed into his night clothes and crawled into bed, and shuddered his way into sleep.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long! I was devoted to trying out for two different organizations I really wanted to be a part of. Unfortunately, I didn't get in to either one (and had to leave a third one I was already in), but on the bright side, more time for fanfiction.
> 
> As always, **please let me know what you think**. Love it, hate it, or just don't know, please leave a review ~~and distract me from 150 pages of quantitative political analysis I really don't want to read.~~


	6. Chapter 6

~*~

One of these days, Arthur would actually put Merlin in the stocks for opening the damned drapes every morning. Arthur opened his eyes and promptly shoved his face back into his pillows until his they weren’t sore. He opened them again to the familiar sight of Merlin and George puttering around the room and quietly arguing about something or another.

Arthur was forgetting something. He slowly turned his head in place, about to call out for Merlin to see what it is he was forgetting when he caught sight of the table, the dishes from last night’s dinner all piled up to be taken downstairs when he remembered, oh, right, _Merlin’s a sorcerer who has been lying the entire time they’ve known each other_.

Suddenly, despite the sunlight and the quilts, Arthur felt so very, very cold.

For a few moments he laid there watching as George continued organizing the plates, moving them carefully and quietly whilst glaring at Merlin, who was busy folding Arthur’s laundry and putting clothes away in his wardrobe.

It could’ve been any other morning, and it was anything but.

He pushed himself up and, as usual, waited to see how long it would take them to notice. Within moments, George said brightly, “Good morning, sire!”

Merlin didn’t say anything, just turned around with a brittle smile forced on his face.

“And the same to you,” Arthur said formally as he stood. “Who has my clothes for today?”

It was a rhetorical question of massive proportions, because he’d barely finished the sentences when Merlin was striding across the floor with breeches and his blue spring tunic in hand.

When he returned to Arthur’s side, Arthur snatched the clothes from Merlin’s hands and didn’t give him the chance to help Arthur put them on, instead swinging his feet out of bed and heading to his changing screen.

He changed, taking a moment to just _breathe_ in his relative privacy before stepping out and saying to his servants, “I’m sure you both already know your chores for today ‒”

“Of course, sire,” George said, while Merlin just nodded a little desperately.

“‒ but I am going to have to make a slight change for today,” Arthur said. “George, take the plates from last night and fetch me my breakfast. No need to rush for this morning. Merlin will be preparing my laundry for the day.”

Merlin’s face looked shattered, and Arthur quickly turned his back on both men to reach for his boots. It didn’t really matter to Arthur who got his breakfast right now, but it mattered to Merlin, enough that when he looked up, even George looked a little uncomfortable. George glanced at Merlin in concern as Arthur’s lying manservant started shuffling off to the small pile of clothing on top of the trunk in the corner.

“Are you sure, sire?” George asked, and for a moment Arthur couldn’t contain the surprise that even _George_ noticed something was wrong and was questioning his king. Arthur quickly schooled his expression into royal surety and nodded, jerking his head pointedly at the table. George silently bowed his head and went.

For a few moments, the room was quiet save the sound of the clattering plates as George piled them up and gathered them into his arms. Arthur sat on his bed and pulled on his boots, and didn’t look up when Merlin opened the door to let George through.

He still didn’t look up when Merlin closed the door, but he did say, “Do you just have no preservation instinct whatsoever?”

“What?”

Arthur finished tying his final lace and looked up to see Merlin clutching a shirt in a white-knuckled grip as he stared at Arthur like a deer in a wolf’s gaze. He looked nearly as pale as he had the night he was nearly killed by the Dorocha, and Arthur quickly stopped that train of thought. Now was not the time to think of the terror that had filled his veins when he’d thought Merlin had died, was dying, was _dead ‒_

Best not to think of that at all.

“After last night,” Arthur said carefully, slowly standing up to his full height and crossing his arms. “All that, and this morning you come and try to act like nothing has changed and everything is normal.”

“I...”

“Tried and failed miserably, I might add.” 

Merlin swallowed. “Well what else was I supposed to do?”

Arthur didn’t say anything, and eventually Merlin turned and went back to the trunk, gathering up all of Arthur’s clothes in his arms. “Will that be all, sire?” he muttered, looking almost desperately towards the door.

Arthur tilted his head. “Why bother?”

Merlin practically hugged Arthur’s dirty clothes to his chest as he said, “Why bother... what?”

“Can’t you just spell them clean?” Arthur asked, jerking his chin towards the bundle.

Merlin actually _did_ hug it close and start to back away as he said, “I can take these down to the laundry chambers just fine. Will you be needing anything else before I commence on my usual chores?”

In theory, those last few words made up the proper line of a proper servant. By the time Merlin had learned those, he and Arthur had long since passed into the realm of informality and friendship and Merlin never knowing his place and Arthur feeling no inclination to correct him. Well, not much inclination, anyway.

“No,” Arthur said, turning away and sitting at his table, glaring at the wooden surface. He wondered if Merlin ever cleaned it with magic. He wondered ‒

No. Merlin took care of practically _everything_ when it came to Arthur, he couldn’t think about how much magic this meant he was potentially surrounded by.

Had been potentially surrounded by for years. 

~*~

The council meeting the next morning was stifled and uncomfortable, for Arthur and for everyone else. It was a small council, so it was just Arthur and some of the estates managers and local lords, trying to contend with how to rotate the kingdom’s crops to compensate for a flood in the northern region.

Arthur’s headache was pounding by the end of it, and as he left the council and went down to the armory, he pondered asking Gaius for something to help with it. Except Arthur wasn’t sure he could face the man right now after Merlin’s little revelation.

Armory. Meeting. Something about the shields.

“The straps for the shields, sire, have been wearing thin,” the armorer said once Arthur got there. “Causing them to fall off. We have replacements, obviously, but I feel it would be most prudent to take this moment’s relative peace and quiet as an opportunity to replace them all before we risk shields falling off everyone’s arms in a battle.”

Arthur sighed, turning to the two knights present. “How big of a problem is this?”

“Three shields fell off in training this week,” Leon said. “I was going to bring it up last night before... before we got distracted.”

Gwaine, who had been slumped over the table the entire time, snorted at that. The armorer looked mildly confused and not-so-mildly long-suffering as he started pulling out the small satchel of shield straps kept on hand.

“We would need to get quite a few more, sire, to do this,” the armorer began.

“Do it,” Arthur said. “A shield is near-useless if a knight or soldier can’t hold it.”

“Right away, sire,” the man said. He packed up the straps into their box, bowed towards Arthur, then the knights, then left.

“...‘distracted’?” Arthur asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

“What else would you call it?” Leon said, somewhat indignantly.

Gwaine groaned.

“I told you this would happen,” Arthur deadpanned towards the lump of human misery masquerading as a knight.

Gwaine slowly looked up, blinking blearily at Arthur. Knowing that Gwaine had attended to his duties this morning fairly well despite what had to be one of the most atrocious morning-afters for the man in months, if not years, Arthur let him continue to be a wreck as he asked, “The rooftop patrol roster has been attended to?”

“Yeah, sorted it out,” Gwaine said, slowly leaning back in his chair. “Managed to leave early and get something from Gaius for this bloody headache.”

“Anything leftover?” Arthur asked without much hope. Gwaine slowly shook his head.

“‘M waiting for it to kick in,” he admitted. He paused. “Gaius... Merlin told Gaius what happened last night.”

The slow rise towards levity abruptly dropped, and Arthur had to tighten his lips against the sudden bout of nausea he felt.

“What did he say?” Leon asked.

“He asked if he should start planning to smuggle Merlin out of the city,” Gwaine said. He looked to Arthur. “Should we?”

_We._

“No,” Arthur said with a sigh. “Not that I think it would work, anyway. Merlin was there when I woke up, handling his chores like always.”

“Of course he was,” Leon said, sounding completely and irritatingly unsurprised.

“I tried to ask him to do the laundry with magic,” Arthur said, leaning his hip against the table. “He practically bolted out of the room.”

Gwaine glared at Arthur. “You ‒” He didn’t even finish that thought, shaking his head roughly then wincing at what was no doubt the suddenly exacerbated pain behind his eyeballs.

“I told George to go get my breakfast,” Arthur continued to stare at the wall.

“That other servant Merlin’s always ranting about?” Gwaine asked as he folded his arms on the table and rested his forehead against them, no doubt trying to get the cool chainmail to soften the edges of his headache.

“Yes.”

“...so?” Leon asked.

“Getting my breakfast is usually Merlin’s job,” Arthur said.

Leon frowned, clearly still not understanding, and Arthur took a deep breath and looked away. He wasn’t sure he could explain it, beyond, “I was being an ass.”

“Aren’t you always?” Leon tried.

“Even more than usual,” Arthur said. “I don’t – I can’t trust Merlin anymore. And he knows that.”

“I… would think that was a given,” Leon said quietly.

For a few moments, the silence swelled and filled the room, broken only by the shifting of the three men as they all pondered their perceptions of Arthur’s best friend.

It felt like half of everything Arthur ever knew had been taken and turned upside down or inside out and everything was still settling, like sand in the bottom of a lake.

A lake in a storm.

“I have duties to attend to,” Arthur said quietly, standing up and heading swiftly towards the door. “I will see you all tomorrow.”

He closed the door before he could hear a response.

~*~

Arthur hadn’t actually seen Gwaine, at first. What he saw, walking down the hall after a meeting with the captain of his guard, was Merlin staring despondently out a window into one of the smaller courtyards. His hand were shaking, barely holding onto the blue satchel of papers Arthur knew were supposed to be waiting for him in his room by now.

He didn’t hear Arthur, so rather than saying something, Arthur lightened his footsteps as he grew closer. He came around just a little behind Merlin and followed the line of his gaze.

Down in the small patch of stone and grass that nestled in a tiny intersection courtyard between a small dining room and two corridors, sat Gwaine. He was on the grass, leaning against one of the walls and drinking heavily from a flask, staring sightlessly at the small statuette of Arthur’s great-great grandmother that stood in the middle of the two walkways.

Gwaine took another drink and continued to blink blearily into nothing.

“This is part of why I never told anyone,” Merlin said, and Arthur managed to contain his surprise into nothing but a slight jerk at the sound of Merlin’s voice. Apparently, he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. “I just... after lying for so long... I thought that even if... even if magic became acceptable and legal, it would just be easier to keep mine to myself. Help everyone out quietly, not do _this_ to everyone.”

“You would have spent your whole life living out a lie?” Arthur asked incredulously.

Merlin turned to him with puffy, simmering eyes. “I already was, Arthur. I’d _always_ lived a lie.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “I always knew you were tricky. And kept secrets. But I’d never pegged you as a liar, Merlin – at least not towards us.”

Merlin turned back to look at Gwaine, who was now struggling to stand up, flask hanging from his side on the hip opposite from his sword.

“I wonder how long it will take him to sober up this time,” Arthur said, wincing when Merlin jerked as if Arthur had struck him with his bare hand.

Arthur almost wanted to do exactly that. But regardless of what Merlin was and wasn’t, Arthur was not that kind of master – not anymore, and not ever again.

“My correspondences,” Arthur said, holding out his hand.

Merlin swallowed and handed them over, arm poised to shove them into Arthur’s hand like he usually did, before changing course and lifting his arm to drop the blue satchel into Arthur’s hand at the last moment.

“The resort from the western guards,” Merlin said quietly, pointing to the first flat paper poking out of it. The second one, “The granary accounts.” And then he pointed to the ornate scroll sticking out of the satchel most. “A letter from the King of Nemeth.”

“Probably another bloody marriage proposal,” Arthur muttered, about to start ranting about foreign kings who just _didn’t get the hint_ before stopping himself.

Arthur wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted everything to go back to normal or not.

“Shall I fetch your dinner?” Merlin asked hopefully.

Arthur shook his head. “You’re dismissed for the evening, actually.”

Merlin didn’t even try to hide how crestfallen he looked. At least Arthur didn’t think he didn’t.

Arthur always called him an open book. And he couldn’t help the incredulous snort at the look on Merlin’s face.

Merlin frowned in confusion.

“A week ago, you would’ve cheered if I’d told you to take the evening off,” Arthur said.

“You didn’t hate me a week ago.” 

“What makes you so sure I do now?”

Now Merlin was the one to look incredulous.

“Are you trying to tell me that after last night you don’t feel ‒”

“I don’t know what to feel!” Arthur snapped, hanging the satchel from his belt so they wouldn’t be accidentally crushed in his grip. “I don’t know anything!”

“Arthur-”

“I trusted you,” Arthur said.

“You still can ‒”

“No I can’t, Merlin,” Arthur said.

“The magic is the only thing I ‒”

“It’s not about the bloody magic!” Arthur said, crowding Merlin against the stone edge. “Forget the magic!”

“How can I?” Merlin snapped. “One word from you, Arthur, and my head goes rolling or I get burnt! How can I forget? How am I supposed to forget?”

“How am I supposed to trust you? I always knew you had secrets, Merlin, but nothing like this! This changes everything I never knew about you.” Arthur swallowed, starting to back off from Merlin. “I don’t know you, Merlin, not anymore... I never-”

“Yes, you do. You did.” Merlin threw his hands up in frustration, and at the very least the quiet, simpering fear was gone. An angry Merlin he knew ‒

He thought he did.

“There’s more to me than magic, Arthur,” Merlin said.

“Well I can’t know that for sure,” Arthur said, crossing his arms.

“You could never know anything for sure, that’s never stopped you before. That never stopped you from loving your father, from knighting Gwaine and Elyan and even Percival when you barely knew him, and that never stopped you from trusting _me_ , even back when you barely knew me!”

For a moment, they stood there, Merlin breathing heavily as anger and sorrow warred in his expression and his eyes.

Arthur knew those eyes. Somehow, even knowing now how they turned gold with magic didn’t make them a stranger’s eyes.

A stranger’s eyes were always easier to handle.

He turned away from Merlin, intending to start walking back to his chambers.

“I’m sorry I lied, Arthur, I really am,” Merlin said from behind him. “But... the only thing that my magic changes about me is what I _can_ do, not what I _would_ do. I’m your loyal servant and more than that, I'm your friend. I’ve always done my best to protect you and look after you, let you become the great king you are destined to be. That’s... that’s all I am. And all I ever will be. I swear to you, on my life and more that I am still your friend, still loyal to you.”

“Would you swear on Gaius’ life?”

Arthur regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. Instead, he kept his expression as impassive as possible as he turned back to Merlin, not even blinking at the stunned look on his face.

“W-what?”

“Swearing on your own life is easy, Merlin,” Arthur said. “But would you swear on Gaius’?”

“Will you kill him if I say yes?” Merlin said, trying to hold onto his anger in the face of the fear growing in his eyes.

“Do you really believe I would?” Arthur tried.

“Once upon a time, I would’ve said that Gaius was Uther’s best friend. That Uther would never harm Gaius. Then Uther sentenced him to death by the pyre, just by the suspicion of magic, and then didn’t even have the courage to actually see it through himself. And I didn’t know what to think after that.”

Arthur stiffened at the comparison. “You...” He shook his head. “You know, I used to find it... funny, really, almost endearing, how much you got along with my father. How did you...?”

Merlin’s mouth twisted wryly in the face of Arthur’s scrutiny.

“Once you take out the latent rage and irrational hatred of all things magic, your father was a nice man and a good king.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Arthur said, shifting his weight. “You – my father...”

“People are complicated, Arthur,” Merlin said, looking down towards the courtyard again. Gwaine was gone.

“Complicated?” Arthur echoed blankly.

“If it was really as simple as killing him because he killed so many people like me, _would_ kill me in a heartbeat – I could’ve killed him _long ago_ , and no one would have ever even known it was me. I could’ve killed him before you and I got to know each other. Or even after – I could’ve killed him and stayed by your side. I could’ve had _almost_ killed him and then openly saved his life with magic. And he would’ve continued to hate magic and I could’ve killed him for real without anyone knowing magic or me were ever involved and you, you would’ve become king and you would have been grateful to me for what I’d done that you would’ve taken another look at your father’s laws on magic. If it were so simple as just hating your father – the possibilities were endless, Arthur, or nearly so.”

Arthur could feel every muscle in his body tightening at Merlin’s monotone explanation, the manservant’s expression become more and more blank with every word.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because people are complicated,” Merlin said. “I expected you to hate me. I expected you to be angry. I didn’t expect you to be so foolish as to think that I was a different person just because of the magic...”

Merlin turned away from the courtyard, starting to head down the corridor to go back to Gaius’ chambers. “And I didn’t expect the knights – even Gwaine – to be so hurt by me.”

And with that lost voice, Merlin turned around the corner and vanished.

~*~

“Will that be all, sire?” George asked stiffly. Not just stiffly, but stiffly for _him_.

Arthur hadn’t even known that was possible.

“Yes, George,” Arthur said curtly. “You are dismissed. Enjoy your evening.”

“Good night, sire,” George said with a low, _appropriate_ bow before quietly vanishing into the corridor, taking the empty dinner plates with him and leaving only the last small plate of bread and cheese with Arthur.

He stared down at the missive from Nemeth, outright asking him for his hand in marriage. Any other time and he would appreciate the straight-forwardness at least, but right now, he just wanted to take every piece of parchment in the room and throw them all into his fire.

The snap of the quill in his fist barely registered, but a moment later he found himself staring forlornly at the rumpled, broken feather. It was his last blue quill, and it was beyond repair.

With a sigh, he set it aside to be thrown away, and picked up another quill from the small stand, all of them shades of red, to finish his response. It was with the care and attention due to another king that Arthur sealed the missive with ribbon and wax, and he stared at the way it shined in the candle flame as it dried.

Despite the fact he was only offering an open negotiation, he knew what everyone would think. He knew what they would expect. Merlin would be upset, and Elyan would be quietly furious and the rest of the knights would futilely try to control the rumors while Agravaine only encouraged them.

And most of all, he knew what anyone who Nemeth sent would expect – and how disappointed they were going to be when Arthur wouldn’t live up to those expectations. He also knew that there was a good chance the kingdom would reject his offers, no matter how generous, and maybe even lash out against him.

He didn’t care.

Everyone was lying to him and keeping secrets, anyway. And even if they were loyal and loved him – and Arthur knew they did, and hated that he knew – people were still turning against him and being turned against him and twisting him and his world inside and out.

At least for a week or two, he would know where the next strike against his heart would come from.

~*~

It wasn’t until the next evening that he noticed the blue quill fixed and whole amongst all his other quills, miraculously in good condition despite how he’d left it the night before.

He nearly threw it into the fire on principle.

He didn’t.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! ♥ Concrit is always welcome!
> 
> Also, would anyone be interested in beta-ing the next story or two in this series?


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